Second Chances
by xXSilverEyesXx
Summary: After an outbreak of Scarlet Fever claims his mother's life, 16-year old Jim Hawkins is forced to move in with his father, a hoodlum by the name of Dallas Winston. Can they find a way to get along, after all these years? Rated T for moderate violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Second Chances - Chapter 1**

Chapter 1

Hands shoved into his pockets, his face tilted down, a sixteen-year-old boy made his way through a rail yard. He was thinking about his parents. And because of how cold it was, he was also thinking of a thicker jacket. The one he wore now had been worn thin over the years, and the icy wind cut through him like a knife. But this was the only jacket he'd brought with him from home. And poor as he was at the moment, he couldn't afford a new one.  
His mind drifted back to his father, and his late mother. Had she known what he was? Did she know just exactly who she'd married, all those years ago? That had been a real surprise. Meeting the toughest hood he'd ever seen in his life, and finding out they were related. That it was his father, no less. His dirty, good-for-nothing cheat of a father.  
He kicked a tin can from his path, and winced as a piece of wood came down on his head. He glared up at an overpass to see a Mustang parked in the middle of it, with four older, well-dressed boys standing around it. _Socials_. He thought crossly. _Perfect_.  
"Grease!" One of them yelled, and dumped the contents of a canteen down at him. The boy sidestepped the foul-smelling liquid, and darted away. I didn't ask for this. He stalked down the street, oblivious to the blue Mustang trailing him. I didn't want to have anything to do with him. He sighed, and kicked at a rock in his path. He caught a reflection in a trash can and froze for a second. What the...He squinted, and saw the car. Oh, man! He shot off down the street, only to feel a sickening rise to his adrenaline as the Mustang picked up speed.  
"Hey, greaser!" One of them shouted gaily. "What's the matter?" The boy jumped a fence, turning away from the street. He didn't need this, not today. Not now. But, heck, when was the last time anyone got jumped and needed it?  
He kept running, even as the Mustang disappeared in the maze of buildings behind him. He wasn't supposed to be on the North side of town. He didn't have anyone backing him up. _They're gonna catch up_. He thought, his heart hammering away in his chest. _And when they do-_  
"Ugh!"  
"Hey!" He collided into someone without seeing who it was. He rolled onto his back and jumped up, fear in his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.  
"Gage!" The dark-haired boy threw him a puzzled look.  
"Jim?" He asked as he got up. "Where's the fire, buddy?" Gage Randle was about his age, just a year older. Gage's father, Steve, was best friends with Jim's Dad, and the rest of the gang. But right now, those things were the farthest from his mind.  
"Gage, there's a...a blue Mustang..." He gasped out, trying to catch his breath.  
"They followin' you?" He asked, searching the area over his friend's shoulder. Jim nodded. He turned just in time to see the Mustang turn to corner, and pick up speed. "C'mon. We're not too far from the DX." The DX was a gas station where Gage's father worked.  
They bolted down the street, the Mustang gaining on them. Gage was a good runner, and had gone out for track at his school before he'd started cutting class. Though he wasn't officially on the team anymore, he was still in shape.  
They reach the DX just as the Mustang pulled in front of them. Jim took a step back, and Gage's hand went to his back pocket, where his switch blade was. The Socs got out of the car, and started to circle them.  
"Well, what do we have here?" One of them drawled.  
"A couple of no-count hoods!" Another one said.  
"Y'all know what a greaser needs the most?" The third one.  
"A haircut and a bar of soap!" The fourth one. Jim swallowed hard, but an expression of hate and disgust covered his face. Gage wore a similar expression.  
"Y'all outt'a your territory. You better watch it." Gage threatened.  
"Or else what?" One Soc snapped. "You're gonna get your daddy on me?"  
"You've got some brains after all." A new voice said, and the Socs whirled around. "It'd be a shame to bash them outta ya'll." There stood Steve Randle, tire iron in hand. Steve was a tall man, and he wasn't scrawny. The Socs took one look at him, and a few of them started to draw their blades.  
"We could call the cops right now, report you for trespassing'." Sodapop Curtis walked up, and Jim's heart slowed down a bit more. Soda was about an inch taller than Steve, and he posed more of a threat. The Socs climbed into their car, sending their would-be victims venomous looks, and were gone.  
"Hey, Gage," Steve said, looking the two over. "What're you two doin' pickin' fights with white trash like that?"  
"They were following Jim, and he ran over me. Literally. So we thought you guys could help us out." Gage said. Soda turned to Jim.  
"I thought you were with your Dad." Jim grimaced, and tried not to roll his eyes.  
"He's over at Buck Merril's place." He said, mostly to himself. "Didn't want me tagging along with him." Buck Merril was bad news all over. He lied, he cheated people, and he felt free to pinch any girl that came his way. Jim's father often visited his house, whether to catch some sleep or to make a few bets, but he'd told Jim not to get within a mile of the place. These instructions made sense coming from anyone but Dally. If Jim got mixed up in anything Buck was doing, Dally would've been the first to admit pride, if anything.  
Jim waited around with the Randles' and Sodapop until they closed up the station. The whole gang lived in roughly the same neighborhood. The Curtis' brothers lived within a block of one another, having never been able to split up completely.  
Soda's house was the closest to the DX. He and his wife, Elise, and their sixteen-year old son, Rontamel, lived in the split level at the end of the street. Elise had a green thumb, and as a result, the front porch was so crowded with potted plants and the like you could hide an entire car from view of the street.  
The Randles lived just a few houses down. Steve and his wife, Carol, and their two kids, seventeen-year old Gage and eighteen-year old Chevy, had shared the two-bedroom house ever since Chevy had been born. The kids were hardly ever at home during the day, and Steve worked weekends sometimes, which left Carol all to herself. All the better for her to concentrate on her housecleaning.  
Next in line was the home of Darrel and Ray Curtis. His wife had died ten years before, leaving him to raise their daughter, Rachel, all on his own. Ray was a nice enough kid, and she liked tagging along with the boys in the gang wherever they went, if she could find them. Gage found this extremely annoying, but Jim usually let her find him. Ray was fifteen.  
Three houses down was Ponyboy's place. Ponyboy had dated Cherry Valance on and off over the years, but he was still single. Whenever anyone needed a place to stay for the night, his door was always open.  
On the next street over, Two-Bit Mathews, Johnny Cade, and Dallas Winston lived within jogging distance from each other. Jim knew their kids well enough. Two-Bit's twins, Mickey and Minnie, had just turned fifteen. Jason and Bonny Cade were different ages, Jace being fourteen and Bonny having turned seven the month before. Jim and Jason hung out a lot, and they were the best of friends.  
Even after they passed his house, Sodapop kept walking. He and Steve joked around, remembering the days when Soda had dropped out of high school to work full time at the DX gas station at seventeen. Gage walked behind them, and Jim trailed along like a lost puppy. Images of that Mustang were stuck in his mind, like a festering cut. Those Socs were always giving them trouble. They'd stalked Ray once before, only to meet a very ticked off Darry one day, which ended that façade. They'd jumped Jace once, and he had a scar on his right cheek as a reminder. And as for himself? Jim had been avoiding them ever since he'd arrived three months prior.  
"You okay, Jim?" Gage asked as they approached the Randle house. Jim sighed.  
"Yeah, I guess." Soda put his arm around his shoulders, and nodded his head at Steve.  
"Y'all go ahead. I'm gonna walk the kid home." Steve muttered something under his breath, but Gage waved, and darted up to the front porch. They walked in silence for a few moments, which left Jim feeling uneasy. Soda was never quiet. Not unless something was wrong. "So...how're things with you and Dally?" He finally asked. Jim rolled his eyes. That's why he wanted to walk me back. It had come as a shock to the gang that Dallas had ever had a kid. And they were always curious about the totally non-existent relationship between father and son.  
"We might be related by blood, but that's about it." He said, hunching his shoulders a little more.  
"You look like him, you know. When you get mad. Your eyes." He said. Jim frowned, puzzled. He'd never noticed.  
"Really?" Soda nodded.  
"When you're mad, you get like Dally. Cold look in your eyes, hard as stone." He turned to the boy. "You don't have his hair, though. Or his personality." Dally had blond hair, and his personality reminded Jim of a lynx. Dangerous and mean.  
"Those I get from my Mom." He said, a little lower. Losing his mother had been hard. Seeing her fade away like he had was even worse. Scarlet fever had struck Benbow, leaving few if any survivors. He was one of the lucky ones. _I don't feel lucky_, he thought bitterly.  
"Is he still coming home late?" He shook his head.  
"Doesn't come back. Spends the night at Buck's." Soda sighed.  
"You know he cares about you, right?" Jim gave him a look.  
"Psh, yeah right! Wake up, Sodapop. He doesn't give a hang about me, never has, and he never will. He ran off on us when I was eight. Hasn't called or anything since." He bit back his tears as he muttered, "He doesn't want anything to do with me."  
"Well, what about the gang, huh? We care about ya." Jim shook his head.  
"You've got your family to worry about. Steve's got his. Same with everyone else, except maybe Pony. But he's got his job to worry about." Pony worked part time at a high school as a teacher. "As soon as I turn eighteen, I'm out of here. Forget all this stuff, maybe go and find some friends of mine." He blew his bangs out of his eyes. "If I don't get jumped first." They were getting closer to Dally's house, and the lights were on in the living room. Dally's back.  
"Well, if you ever need a place to stay, Ronto would probably be happy to let you share his room." Rontamel was another close friend of Jim's. "Take care, kid."  
"You too, Sodapop." Jim said. Soda started off back to his house, and Jim paused outside the chain-link fence. He knew what was probably awaiting him inside. Nothing new, anyway. He pushed open the gate, stalked up to the front door, and went inside.  
Before he was even fully through the door, he was engulfed by the smell of cigarette smoke. Out of all the guys in the gang, Dallas was the only one who was still smoking. Soda had never really been much of a smoker anyway, and had quit for his health. Steve and Two-Bit had quit because of their wives. Ponyboy had quit in hopes of making track all through high-school, and hadn't picked it up since. Johnny had quit for his kids. Darry had resolved not to smoke, in case Ray should pick up the habit. But Dallas was still a smoker.  
Dally was on the couch, watching some old black-and-white movie. Jim waited a moment, then slunk into the kitchen. Dallas remained silent. It was like he didn't even notice Jim.  
"Uh...I ended up at the DX." He said as he opened the fridge. But, just as he'd expected, there wasn't anything inside. Nothing in the freezer, either. Why would there be? Dally ate out all the time, and scarcely ever brought anything back.  
"Why'd ya go there?" Dallas asked, though his tone indicated he couldn't care less. Jim thought for a moment.  
"Ran into Gage. A couple of Socs were giving him some trouble, so we went by the DX. Steve and Soda scared them off."  
"Don't you have a blade?" Dally asked, annoyed. Jim looked down at his scuffed-up boots. He'd forgotten about his switch blade, and had left it in his room. But if he admitted that...  
"Yeah."  
"Then why the heck did you need Soda's help?" Jim didn't say anything. "You're always kissin' up to Sodapop." Dallas grumbled. Jim waited for a few more minutes, but Dally didn't have anything else to say, so he went to his room.  
Dallas jockeyed for the Slash J. a lot, as well as riding saddle bronc in the rodeos, and he made good money from both. He'd finally started renting a house, and he was actually paying rent, but Jim wondered how long it would last. Dallas never stayed put for long.  
Since he'd moved in with him, Dally had been in and out of jail twice. The first was for grand theft auto. The second was for a knife fight with a Soc. Each incident had landed him a month in jail, since no one could prove he'd taken the car in the first place, and the judge had accused him of merely disturbing the peace for the fight.  
Jim dropped onto the bed, trying to ignore his stomach. He hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and even then it was only a bag of popcorn. Heaving another sigh, he turned to his window. He could get breakfast at one of the Curtis' in the morning, or even the Cade's. Johnny's parents had neglected him as a kid, so he knew what it was like. But Dally had been his hero back then, and he still admired him. Trying to talk Johnny into seeing just how hateful Dallas really was would be like telling a little kid that Santa Clause didn't exist. It'd break his heart.  
The boy pulled a small, oval-shaped locket out of the bag near his bed. Engraved on the back were the initials 'S.H'. Sara Hawkins. He opened it, and watched the array of holographic pictures that played out before his eyes. Happy days gone by. He smiled as he remembered each one. He closed the locket, and put it away, careful not to leave the chain hanging out of his bag again. Dally had seen that this morning, and had almost slipped it out of the bag to see what it was. He'd been stopped, however, by Jim's complaints over the amount of hair oil he'd had to put in his hair.  
Greasers all had long hair, and most gelled it back with hair oil. Dally made sure Jim fit in with that category. He was glad to have his hair long again. It brought him some comfort. But the hair oil was new to him. It hardly made any difference if he rolled out of bed in the morning and neglected to put it on. Dally would actually force him to hold still, and would do it for him. Jim's scalp was always smarting after he did it, though, so he usually did it himself. Dallas always pulled his hair too hard.  
Greasers also wore dark clothes, black, brown or green. Beat-up boots or sneakers, leather or denim jackets. They dressed like hoods. Because most greasers were hoods. Like Dally. And Jim had pretty much outgrown the clothes he'd brought with him, and didn't exactly have money to pay for any new ones. Dally either didn't notice or didn't care, but either way he did nothing to help the situation. The Curtis brothers had noticed, however, and had given him some clothes they'd had at his age. Charity, but who cared? He had clothes to wear, that was the main thing. He preferred Soda's to Pony's, though, because they were bigger. Darry's were too big.  
Between the hair grease and the clothes, he wouldn't have recognized himself. He looked nothing like the small-town Montressian boy he'd once been. He doubted his own mother would have known who he was.  
He hadn't chosen this life style. Dally's police records alone were enough reason to put him in a boy's home until he turned eighteen. And without a doubt, that's what Dallas wanted. But every possible home the judge had looked at had been full. He had nowhere else to go.  
So he'd moved in with Dally.  
_I'll get out of here, soon_. He thought as he drifted off to sleep, a freezing wind blowing through the broken open window. _As soon as I'm eighteen...I'll go_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jim laid his chin down on his desk, only half listening to his teacher. The subject they were discussing was one he'd heard at least half a million times, the history of interplanetary trade. Behind him, Mick and Gage were flicking wadded up pieces of paper at each other, and near the front row Rontamel was keeping himself occupied with trying a girl's hair to the back of her seat.  
"…and so after the creation of solar-cell fabrics and artificial gravity, scientists began to observe ways of interplanetary travel." their teacher droned on, either totally unaware of the boys antics or simply not caring. "The renowned astrophysicist, Alejandro Gallant, discovered a new way to harness energy which eventually led…" 'Which eventually led to the technology used on most space vessels today. He also reinvented the laser cannon and pistol.' Jim had taken two assessment tests in the Interstellar Academy that were almost totally based on Gallant. He'd written reports, read biographies, worked on class projects with his friends, the works. Almost everything he learned in school here in Tulsa was something he'd covered several times already. Surprisingly, however, in science they were only learning the different parts of a cell. In the academy he'd been studying cell modification, genetic fusion, and the science behind DNA cloning.  
Bored completely out of his mind, Jim glanced around the class room. A pretty blond girl in a cheerleaders uniform was sitting next to her boyfriend passing notes. Their school colors were black and yellow, but her red shoelaces stood out. For some reason it jarred his memory, Jim winced as it involuntarily surfaced. He turned his face away from the girl and instead focused his gaze out the window.

***

His mother wasn't the only one who was sick. Jim actually developed the tell-tale rash before his mother did. Why he had had more energy than she did at that point, he hadn't a clue. He'd survived.  
She hadn't.  
At her funeral, almost everyone wore black. His aunt Trisha wore red. She approached him after the service and laid a hand on his shoulder.  
"Your mom never did know when to quit." she had said as she eyed the roses being laid on a table in front of a picture of Sara. Jim said nothing. "The woman was always so tired. What could have possibly stressed her so much I couldn't guess, poor dear. By the way, Jim, are you still on probation?" He faintly remembered that at the time, he'd recalled all the times his mother would threaten her younger sister with a frying pan. It seemed like a fair idea.  
His grandmother had walked up to him at that point. She looked at Sara's picture and laid a small, unopened rose amid the others. She then turned to her grandson.  
"I'm sorry for your loss, James. I will miss my daughter very much, and I'm sure you will miss your mother." He'd nodded.  
"Yes, ma'am." His grandmother had looked around at the people gathered there. Then, in an under tone, she'd asked,  
"Where's Dallas? Wasn't he supposed to…?"  
"No, Mom." Trisha had answered curtly. "He couldn't make it." Her mother looked confused.  
"But she's his wife. He should be-"  
"No, Mom, Jim's dad couldn't make it," Trisha had cut her off in a loud voice, "Because he's serving time in jail again." Jim had looked away as the conversation died around them, and every eye in the room was suddenly on him. Trisha covered her petite red lips with her hand, as if in embarrassment. "Oh, did I say that too loud? I'm so sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to bring up your mother's ex-husband." Jim tensed. She tried to draw him into a hug. "Poor little Ji-"  
"Please leave." he said in a monotone voice. "Just go. I didn't want you here. No one did." The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about them. Trisha looked crestfallen.  
"Jim…I know the emotional toll of suddenly being an orphan is hard, but you're acting very inappropriate." In any normal situation, he would have just walked away. No one liked Trisha. But he couldn't see any reason to control himself. He'd turned on her then, and had grabbed a casserole off one of the tables and thrown it at her. Her red satin dress was covered in a white, goopy blend of pureed clams, and who-knew-what-else. She'd looked down at her ruined dress in horror before screaming vile insults at him. He'd just smiled. And that had only been the beginning.

***

"Jim!" The brunette jumped slightly as he suddenly realized his teacher was standing right in front of him. He picked his head up off his desk.  
"Huh?" Snickers throughout the classroom.  
"Thank you for joining us. Now, if you would be so kind as to share the answer to our question?" Jim blinked away the memory.  
"Sure. What is it?" A few of the students chuckled at this, but he ignored them. Mr. Kraits crossed his arms over his chest, apparently not as amused.  
"During the first interplanetary war, this man became known for his quick reflexes and mechanical genius when he repaired the main thruster of a solar galleon with nothing more than a cravat pin and a paperweight. Who was this man?" Jim shrugged.  
"I…I wasn't really paying attention, sir-" Kraits slammed his textbook down on his aluminum desk with a loud clang.  
"I don't know why your parents even bother sending you here," he said, looking down his nose at the greaser boys. "When all you do is sit there and sleep or pass notes or Lord knows what else. Your parents are all hoods, I shouldn't be surprised. And then the school board comes done on my neck when you fail your tests and drop out of high school." Jim glared at him.  
"Robert J. Langford, trained at the Military Academy in Port Royal on Ethiria, who later became head advisor to the Terran emperor." He retorted. "And it wasn't a cravat pin. It was a cuff link." Kraits narrowed his eyes as Gage slapped Jim a high-five. Jim just glared right back at him.  
"Detention."

It had only been a few short months, but Jim had begun to accept the fact that, as Dallas' only child, he had a built-in reputation. His teachers looked down on him and always seemed to expect trouble from him. He'd noticed that other adults regarded him suspiciously whenever they saw him. It didn't matter what he did, how he acted, how he talked, he was the son of a hoodlum, and therefore he must be one himself. He looked the part, with his hair long again and always wearing dark colored clothes, a single earring in his left ear. He'd become used to being treated like a delinquent. Save for the last year, it was exactly the way he'd been treated in Benbow. Back home he actually hadn't done much, just minor theft and trespassing charges. But still, he'd violated his parole often enough that he'd been threatened with Juvenile Hall. So after a few weeks of trying his hardest to show everyone that he wasn't anything like his dad, he'd given up, and had settled for being judged and just ignoring it.  
He walked into the detention classroom, and headed for the opposite side of the classroom, avoiding the upperclassmen and Socs. He'd already figured out that they didn't mix well, even in school.  
Especially in school.  
He picked a seat next to a window, and let his chin rest on it. The teacher, most likely one that had drawn the short straw in a conference meeting earlier that day, barely glanced up from his book.  
"No talking. Do you have a cell phone?" Jim shook his head, and the teacher went back to his book. Jim's eyes wandered aimlessly around the classroom. The Soc's seemed to be angry they were there. Most kids were. It was Friday afternoon. Parties were going, and they were missing them. Jim didn't care. He was going to go to the movies later that night with Rontamel and Gauge. Until then, though, he'd been looking at a long, boring afternoon, at home, alone. Now at least someone cared enough to make sure he was where he was supposed to be. He spotted a mocking bird outside the window, and frowned. The black feathers reminded him of someone.  
Someone he was supposed to meet. He winced.  
Samantha K. Wyatt, 'Sam' for short, was a girl that was pretty enough to be a Soc, and a reputation ugly enough to be a hood. He'd met her by accident, the first month he'd been in Tulsa. He'd been walking around town aimlessly and had realized, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that he was on the wrong side of town. That was why he'd switched from public roads to back alleys. And that was why he'd ended up lost. He'd been passing by what he thought was a storage place when she'd pretty much fallen out of the sky and had landed on top of him. Having had the wind knocked out of him, he'd been frozen on his back, and had suddenly found himself staring into evergreen eyes. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, but wisps of it had worked their way loose, and hung in tendrils down the side of her face. For a moment, he'd though he'd been looking at an angel from heaven.  
Then the sirens went off.  
Whatever she'd done, for whatever reason she'd been inside the gates, was apparently bad enough to make her jump to her feet and sprint. And Jim, having a record as long as his arm already, wasn't looking to be her scapegoat, never mind how charming she looked. So he'd started after her.  
"Hey!" Jim glanced over his shoulder to see two men running after them, presumably the owners of the storage unit. The girl looked back, too, and when she spotted Jim, she's glared at him. She turned onto the open streets. Having little choice what to do, Jim had followed her, and had caught up to her. They ran for maybe a block, before they turned down another alley. Appearances can be deceiving. He'd been hoping she knew where she was going, but she must not have, because they were suddenly facing a fence made of sheet metal. Her eyes widened, and she whipped around as the voices of their pursuers grew louder. Jim looked up at the fence, and was reminded of his training at the Interstellar Academy. They would split into two teams, Reds and Blues, and one would hunt the other. He'd been in this situation before. He and his best friend Luke had been cornered almost exactly like this, except the wall was brick and not metal. Jim bent his knee.  
"Jump." He hissed. She turned to him, scanning his face.  
"I'll never make it." He shook his head.  
"Not alone. Jump." She hesitated, but did as he said. Just as she pushed off his leg, he positioned his palms under the soles of her shoes and shoved her higher. With a gasp, she grabbed the top of the fence, and a second later, she was gone from sight. Jim swallowed as the two men rounded the corner, and came closer.  
"Hey you!" One of them snarled. "Think it's funny, smashing someone else's car up?" Jim stood his ground, and put a cocky smile on his face.  
"Yeah. So what if I do?" He felt his smile melt away as the second man pulled on a set of brass knuckles.  
"Everyone has their hobbies. Mine's smashing greasers' faces in." They stepped closer, and Jim felt his knees tremble slightly. The first man, a shorter, bald one with squinty eyes, grabbed Jim's arm and twisted it behind his back. His friend, a burly blonde with bulging, tattoo-covered arms, pulled back his fist, then swung. Jim saw stars and felt his head snap backward. He'd have fallen flat on his back if the first one hadn't yanked him back upright. As Knuckles took aim for his second punch, the sound of shrieking metal filled the alley. Part of the wall swung out, too fast for the first man to react. He was slammed between the gate and the wall. The girl darted out of the alley, stomping on the back of Jim's thighs. As he fell to his knees, she pulled something out of a bag hanging at her hip. There was a hissing sound, then the blond man's scream as he pawed at his eyes. She grabbed the collar of Jim's shirt and hauled him backward, through the gate, then dropped him on the ground. Just before she swung the gate back in place, he saw a bright purple stripe over the blonde's face. She motioned to him to hurry, and they darted out of the alley, and onto the open streets. He kept following her, and she led him away from the Soc's territory. He knew they were safe again when they were past the railroad, and making their way along some of the sleazier houses and dilapidated, crumbling abandon buildings. It was only after she unlocked a gate, let them inside, and locked it behind them that they stopped to catch their breath. Jim brushed aside his bangs, and felt something warm. He glanced at his hand to see blood. A spot under his eye was throbbing as well. _Bad aim_, he thought.  
When they stopped panting, the girl looked closer at him. She reached out, and tilted his chin upward, then winced.  
"Oh my gosh." she said, mostly to herself. "You idiot." That? That was to him. "What on earth did you think you were doing?" Was she serious? She was scolding him? After he'd saved her neck? Jim pulled back from her, even though her touch felt…good. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He shot her a look.  
"Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She scowled at him.  
"You little weasel, just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I need some guy I don't even know watching my back!" Jim shook his head.  
"It's called being nice. It's got nothing to do with you being a girl. If you'd been a guy, I'd have done it too. You needed help. I gave it." The fury in her eyes disappeared, and to his complete surprise, she smiled. She punched his shoulder, and stood up.  
"Come on, Superboy. Let's get you fixed up." As soon as she'd turned her back, he'd rubbed the stinging pain out of his shoulder. _That girl's got an arm on her_, he thought, and winced.  
She'd led him through a junkyard to a small shack in the back of it. It was a labyrinth of smashed up cars, pieces of carports and gates and doors and who knew what else. "Wait here." She disappeared inside the shack for a moment, and returned with a clear bottle, of alcohol and a small white tin. He sat down on the hood of a mangled car and let her clean the cut on his face. She was gentle. He kept staring at her eyes. They were such a vivid green, it was hard to believe they were real. She caught him looking several times. She finally smiled.  
"What are you staring at?" He gave her a small smile.  
"Your eyes. You've got to be wearing contacts." She shook her head.  
"Nope. They're real. Bet you're are, too." He shook his head.  
"Nope. They're glass." An amused look crossed her face.  
"Really?"  
"Yep. I'm blind. Both eyes." She nodded.  
"Uh-huh. Poor soul." He shrugged. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Where did you learn to do that?"  
"Do what?" She dabbed at his face with a cotton ball, and he winced.  
"That…jump. Or whatever you call that. Back there."  
"I don't know what it's called, but I picked it up in school."  
"Get in fights a lot do ya?"  
"No." Not recently, anyway. "I used to go to the Interstellar Academy." She stared at him, slack-jawed.  
"You a Soc?"  
"No. Greaser."  
"And you went to the IA?" she asked dubiously. Jim nodded.  
"I did. A friend of mine knew some of the head officials there. She got me an interview, and I got in."  
"Then what are you doing in Tulsa?" she quipped as she put away her kit. "Undercover for something? Or do our schools have more to offer?" He shook his head stiffly.  
"I…my mom died. I had to move in with a relative." It was her turn to go stiff.  
"Oh…I'm sorry."  
"It's okay." An awkward silence settled between them, and he nervously felt the back of his neck. "I'm Jim by the way. Jim Hawkins." She smiled at him again, bowing in front of him elegantly.  
"Samantha Kendra Wyatt at your service." Something fell out of her bag, and rolled in front of him. He picked it up. It was a can of spray paint. He remembered the stripe on his assailant's face and grinned.  
"You sprayed him with this?" she nodded.  
"First his darling little corvette. Then him." He chuckled under his breath. "We make a pretty good team. Where you from?"  
"Benbow, Montressor. You?"  
"I was born in Los Angeles, but I live here with my Uncle." Jim glanced up at the sky, and realized that the sun was already setting. He didn't want to leave yet. He liked this girl. She seemed nice. But he didn't want to walk home in the dark, either. So he stood up.  
"I'd better get going. I don't live too close. Um…thanks, Samantha."  
"Call me Sam. And it's me that should be thanking you. You really saved my neck back there. I owe you one, Hawkins." He saluted her smartly, and she kind of laughed. "Will I see you around?"  
"Well, not breaking and entering." he joked. "But yeah. See ya." He's only gone a few steps when she'd called his name. He turned.  
"Meet me back here tomorrow? Bout noon?"  
"Sure."  
And he had. They'd spent the day just mulling around town. He'd asked her if they could meet up the next day, and they did. And so it had gone on for about a week. Sam was a middler. Neither greaser nor Soc. But he didn't want the gang to know about her. He didn't want anyone to know about her. And she didn't know that he was actually Dallas' son. Everyone knew Dallas. He was sharp as a nail and twice as tough. Everyone else knew him through Dally, but not Sam. And he was afraid of what she'd think if she found out.  
He was supposed to meet her that afternoon, but instead, he was stuck in detention. He hoped she'd forgive him. As he watched the clouds form different shapes in the sky, he thought of the surprise he'd been working on for her. Well, it was mostly for himself, but she'd probably enjoy it, too.

Jim slowed to a walk, half a block away from the theater. As soon as detention had ended, he'd gone over to Sam's place to explain why he'd missed their date, and to apologize. As always, Sam was fine. She wasn't mad at him, like he'd been afraid she would be. She did, however, insist that their next date had better be special. Jim had promised that he'd make it up to her. He'd only planned on staying long enough to talk to her. But the next thing he knew, she was running her finger's up and down his neck, toying with his hair. And those startling eyes of hers had distracted him. He reasoned that a few minutes couldn't hurt. But the next thing he knew, an hour had gone by. And he was late. Again. So he'd run the entire way over to the movie theater.  
The crowds at the Nightly Double were at a minimum, and as they'd planned earlier that week, Ronto and Jace were waiting for him at the front entrance, Jace's little sister Bonny included. There was a spot in the back of the lot where somebody could slip under the fence, and sneak in for free. That was what they usually did. But tonight the boys paid and went in.  
"My Dad said I had to bring her with." Jace explained with a roll of his eyes. Jim shrugged, but Ronto picked Bonny up. Rontamel loved Bonny. He loved all kids, actually, but Bonny was his favorite.  
"Hey, Bon-Bon. You want some popcorn?" He asked, grinning again. He was a lot like his dad. Ronto was closer to Jim than anyone else in the gang, partially because he was the most open in the group, and partially because Jim liked to spend time around Sodapop. As he and Bonny went to get the popcorn, Jim and Jace started poking around under the bleachers. The movie wouldn't start for the next few minutes.  
The theater was an ancient drive in, one that had been up since their parents were just kids. It had been neglected for several years, but the owner had finally fixed it up. It was a great place to hang out. You could slip under the bleachers and be invisible in the shadows, you could huddle up in groups on the benches and watch the movies, and the popcorn and soda, once paid for, were unlimited.  
"Where'd you go, anyway?" Jace asked as he swung from the hand railing of one of the higher rows, giving Jim a questioning look. "Your Dad was askin' about you." Jim was surprised. Dallas never cared where he was. At least, he didn't seem to.  
"He was?" Jace nodded.  
"Asked where you went, and I told him the DX. But he said he'd just been there, and you weren't there. Where'd you go?" He felt his cheeks getting hot. Originally, he'd planned on going straight to Sam's after school, then meeting his friends. But since he'd been late, he'd had to tell a white lie.  
"Uh...the railway station. I was just...looking around over there." Jace rolled his eyes.  
"Alright, fine. Don't tell me. But promise me one thing?"  
"What's that?"  
"Don't get killed, alright?" Jace said, and it was more of a statement. Jim was about to respond when a hand came down on his shoulder, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.  
"Hey, punk!" A voice snarled. He jumped backward, and cracked his head against the bleachers with a loud metallic _CLANG_.  
"Ow! Dang it, Two-Bit!" He snapped. Two-Bit started laughing loudly.  
"Kid, you're too easy!" Jim rolled his eyes, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, sulking.  
"What're you doing here, Two-Bit?" Jace asked, grinning. Jim took a small step backward so that he was surrounded in shadow, to hide his flushed face.  
"Just doin' your folks a favor and checking up on ya. Making sure you weren't starting things with any Socs." He tousled Jace's black hair. "Or a girl. You never know with you three."  
"Oh, hey, Two-Bit!" Ronto said, and Bonny smiled toothily behind her small paper bag of popcorn. The movie started, so they found their seats. Though soon after, Two-Bit disappeared. It was an old movie, in black and white, about a detective who was on the run from the law. He tried to at least pretend to be interested in it, but eventually Jim slouched so that his head was resting against the back of his seat. He let his eyes close for a moment. A moment later, he opened them. The stars above sparkled like diamonds on black velvet. Memories from his time aboard various solar galleons, unbidden, filled his mind. _So many places, so many worlds, and I get stuck here_, he thought crossly. Why couldn't Dallas just...He couldn't finish that thought. He wouldn't. If Dallas didn't want him around, that was just fine. Jim didn't need him. He could get along just fine without him...

The next thing he knew, Ronto was shaking his shoulder, telling him to wake up. Jim yawned.  
"What time is it?"  
"About three in the morning." Ronto replied as he shrugged on his jacket. "That movie was longer than I thought. Look, we gotta get home. Our parents'll be freaking out all night."  
"What happened to Two-Bit?"  
"Dunno. He was here one second, and gone the next." He stood up, and picked up the sleeping Bonny from her chair. Jim followed them as the gang headed home. Each household was pretty much the same story; they'd been at the movies and had ended up staying later than they thought they would, they were very sorry and wouldn't let it happen again. Ronto's mother was furious. Soda just looked relieved.  
"You can come over for breakfast tomorrow, if you want to." Jace offered as they trudged towards the Cade's house. Jim nodded thoughtfully. He almost never ate breakfast anymore. Catching a meal at his house was rare. Dallas ate out. Jim ate at school. They hadn't discussed the subject yet, and Jim doubted they would.  
"Thanks, Jace."  
"No problem." He shifted Bonny's weight in his arms. Like Jim, she'd fallen asleep at the movies, and he had been carrying her the whole way. "Man, she's heavy." Jace's parents, like Ronto's, understood. Johnny thanked Jim for walking his kids home, and asked if he would like Jace to walk him the rest of the way. Jim watched as Chloe gently took her sleeping daughter from Jace's arms, a loving smile on her face. He turned his eyes away from them and gave Johnny a small smile.  
"No thanks, Mr. Cade. Goodnight." He turned around and was back on the street before Johnny could insist upon his offer.  
When Jim got back to Dallas' house, the light in Dally's room was on. The rest of the house was dark. Jim's mind was on other things as he walked through the gate, and up to the door. He tried to open the front door, but found it locked. He frowned, puzzled. _That's weird_, he thought. _Dallas never locks it_. He heard someone walking to get the door, and Dallas opened it. Jim was surprised to see the anger in his icy-blue eyes.  
"Where the heck have you been?" Dally asked coldly. Jim felt his heart lurch. He honestly hadn't thought he'd be in trouble. But it was perfectly clear that Dallas was mad. Jim side-stepped him and went inside, shrugging off his jacket.  
"I was with Jace and Ronto. We went to the movies. Was…longer than we thought." He said haltingly, his voice barely above a whisper.  
"What, you don't know how to use a pay phone?" He snapped. "Didn't you realize how late it was?" He wasn't yelling, but his voice was a little too loud. Jim searched his mind for an excuse, and lamely said,  
"I fell asleep-"  
"You what?"  
"I fell asleep during the movie." He mumbled. "I didn't mean to, I just...it just happened."  
"And it never once uncured to you that I might have been ready to call the cops, and draw attention to all this again, because my idiot kid-" The words shocked him, burning him like embers.  
"Oh, sure, like you care." Jim spat. A thick silence hung in the air for a moment. Jim looked anywhere but at Dally. _I really __**am**__ an idiot_. He thought. He looked up through his bangs at Dallas, and winced when he saw the look in his father's eyes. _Oh, shoot..._  
"Don't you dare get smart with me!" Dallas snapped. Jim barely moved, but his pulse was sky-high, He'd seen Dally mad before. And he knew what could happen. But that didn't stop him from looking away and muttering, as was his habit,  
"Whatever." Dally slapped him, hard, and Jim tripped backwards and fell. Dallas grabbed his arm, jerking him upright.  
"What'd you say to me? Huh?" He asked, and slapped him again with his other hand. Jim could barely see straight, and his eyes were watering. It hurt. Bad. "What'd you say?" Dally demanded. Jim stayed quiet. Dallas shook him. "Answer me!"  
"I-I'm sorry." Jim managed to whisper.  
"You don't like the way I run things? This place not good enough for ya?" He nodded towards the front door. "There's the door! Get out!" He let go, and shoved the boy against the wall. Jim shook his head to clear his vision.  
"Dallas, I-" Dallas threw him against the door.  
"I said get out!" Jim bolted, and hopped the fence surrounding the house. It had been the last thing he'd been expecting. Dallas never cared. And he still didn't. He wasn't mad because Jim had been home late. He'd been mad because he might have had to call the police to look for him, and any unwanted attention from the police would have their social worker asking questions, which would probably land Dallas right back in the same cell Jim had found him in.  
It was too much to think about. Jim was sick an tired of Dallas. He'd never been there, not ever, not once. Even now, with his mother dead, with the two of them living in the same house, they still couldn't get along. Jim was done trying to please him. He'd given that up when he was eight. Now he couldn't even tolerate Dallas. He ran as hard as he could, focusing on the rhythm of his shoes hitting the pavement instead of the pain he felt welling up inside. And it seemed to work. Until he came to an unexpected stop.  
He crashed into something soft and warm. And audible string of curses filled the night air, but they didn't come from his mouth. Flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him, Jim could only stare into the dark of the night as a familiar sound made his blood run cold.  
_Click_.  
A switchblade.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jim shut his eyes tight, waiting for the attack, but it never came.

"Aw…come on kid! Scare a body to death!" Recognizing the voice, he opened his eyes.

"P-Ponyboy." he said, relief causing him to stutter. Pony put his blade away, regarding him skeptically.

"What are you _doing_ out here? It's almost midnight."

"Uh…" Jim glanced over his shoulder, then back at Ponyboy. "I…kinda…made Dallas a little mad." He took the hand Pony offered, and the latter helped him to his feet, looking skeptical.

"How?" Jim didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't like Dallas, but he liked the sympathetic smiles and reassuring lectures he got from his father's friends even less. So he changed the subject.

"If it's really all that late, why are you our here in the dark all by yourself?" Ponyboy held up a long, narrow object. It was a flashlight.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd take a walk. Batteries died on me. I was just on my way home when some punk kid jumped me."

"Who?" Pony gave him a look. "Oh."

"It's not safe to be out here at night." he said, and Jim avoided his gaze. "…Dallas just needs some time to cool down, I'll bet. Tell you what. I've got to drop by the high school tomorrow morning. I can give you a ride if you'd like." Jim thought for a moment, then nodded. "And since you're already halfway to my house, I've been having some trouble with my truck., Think you can come take a look?"

"Okay." Without another word, Ponyboy led Jim to his house and let him in. He went straight to the garage and popped the hood of Pony's old blue pickup truck, just like Ponyboy knew he would. In all honesty, he liked Jim. He was a good kid, like his mother had been. He liked Dallas, too, but even though he'd known him since he was twelve, Pony didn't understand him. Dallas had been devastated after he'd left Sara. Still, nobody knew _why_ he'd left her. And for a long time after he'd been born, Jim was all Dallas ever wanted to talk about. But that had been nearly eight years ago, and Dallas had changed. After tinkering under the hood for awhile, Jim told Pony to start it up. It ran like it was brand new. Ponyboy whistled.

"You just saved me a trip to the DX." he chuckled as he shut off the engine. "Thanks." Jim shrugged, but he was smiling.

"You're welcome." They went back inside, and while washed the oil from his hands, Ponyboy pulled out an extra blanket and a pillow off his bed and laid them on the couch. Jim sat down and groaned as he sunk into the cushions. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

"You know you're welcome here is Dally's ever pesterin' you." Pony said from the kitchen, "Or if you ever just need a place to stay." He waited for a response, but none came. He peeked into the living room. Jim had already fallen asleep.

Dallas hurled an empty bottle at the kitchen wall. His curses were mingled with the sound of shattering glass. He reached next for a lamp that sat on the table, and threw that too. He hadn't been this angry in a long, long time. In fact, the last time had been way back in his teens, when he and Sara had had their first fight. He was mad at everyone. Mad at Sara for leaving him alone in the world with their teenage son. Mad at himself for leaving her. Mad at her mother for pushing him to it. And oh yes, he was especially mad at Jim. Since when did he mouth off like that? He'd never done that as a child. Back then, all Dallas had to do was give him a look and the kid practically fell to tears. He'd been a good kid. But now he was a rebellious, resentful teenager with an attitude that was going to get him into a lot of trouble real quick, and a smart mouth.

"…just like me." Dallas suddenly stopped throwing things. The anger drained out of his system, like the maniacal grief had so long ago, the night he'd been shot. The night he thought he'd lost Johnny. "Sara." Her name fell from his lips, and all the self-control he had left vanished. He sank to his knees, seeing no reason to put it off any longer. Sara. Her long brown hair, her startling blue eyes, her bell-like laugh. Her beautiful smile. The way she fit so perfectly in his arms. Memories of her ran through his mind, and he shut his eyes tight as the tears began to fall.

He'd met Sara in a run-down diner when he'd first moved to Tulsa. He'd just come back from a short 'business' trip to New York, and still had a bad taste in his mouth from his dealings there. Now, every waitress Dallas had ever met was always up-beat, trying to 'turn his frown upside-down'. It annoyed him to no end, and he constantly insulted every waitress he met. The day he'd met her, he'd called one of her co-workers a fat-legged cow. He'd made her cry, and since he wasn't totally heartless, he'd felt bad enough anyway. But the next thing he knew was that a brunette in a sunny-yellow dress was suddenly leaning over the table to glare at him eye-to-eye.

"Listen, buster! I don't know who you think you are! But you've got no right to treat _any_one like that! So either grow up and apologize to her, or you can just get out of here and find somewhere else to throw your money and your insults around!" Dallas raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smirked.

"You're a gutsy gal. Alright, say I go and talk to your manager about this little threat?" She hadn't answered him. Instead, she'd poured half a pot of hot coffee in his lap. He flew out of his seat, swearing until he was blue in the face, but by the time he'd turned to scream at her, she was back in the kitchen, and the manager had come out to escort Dallas to the door while the patrons of the diner laughed heartily at his misfortune. It had been humiliating.

He couldn't stay away.

So the next day, he'd gone back with a single rose, and had found the waitress he'd offended. He'd apologized, and had even flirted with her, and all was forgiven. When he went to leave, he'd looked around for Sara, but he didn't see her. For a long time, he wondered if she'd moved away or something.

"Sara, please…" he whimpered now, on his knees, in a run-down, ratty house that he didn't even own. He'd promised to be her everything. He'd promised that there would be no one else, that he was hers and she was his, for better or for worse, until death parted them from each other's embrace. He'd abandon her. And now, now that he finally realized that she was all he wanted, all that kept him going, it was too late. She was gone.

And to make matters worse, he'd just thrown their only child, her baby, out of his house, in the middle of the night, in a neighborhood where teenagers got in gang fights. What he'd give to have that locket. The memories she held close to her heart, of Jim as a newborn, their first Christmas together, their third anniversary, when he'd taken her and Jim sailing around Montressor. He could remember the angelic glow that Crescentia's light had given her. How Jim used to run to him everyday when he came home from work and hug his leg. He remembered feeling happy, for the first time in his life. Where could that locket have possibly ended up? It wasn't like Sara to misplace it. She'd have always kept it close, no matter what.

He just happened to glance at the wall behind the door, and noticed that there was a spot where the plaster was cracked. He let his head rest in his hands as he realized that that was probably where Jim's head had been when he'd shoved him into the wall. Grief consumed him anew, and he gave into it.

He'd do better, he promised her now. He would do everything he could to make up for everything he'd done wrong. He'd take care of their son, his last piece of her. He wouldn't be like his own father, who'd abandon him as a teenager, or like Johnny's parents either. He would make things right, and this he swore to her.

True to his word, Ponyboy drove Jim to school the next morning. He felt a little guilty, because Pony was always doing things for him. Most of his clothes were hand-me-downs from Ponyboy, who was the only one in the gang that hadn't married yet. Ponyboy had also offered to help him with his homework if he ever needed any. Just like everyone else, Ponyboy was willing to help. Jim suspected they felt bad he was Dallas' son, mostly. If it had been any other kid in his situation, Jim would have acted the same way. But he felt awkward, taking advantage of their hospitality. After Ponyboy dropped him off, Jim watched from the side of the building until he pulled out of the parking lot and left. Then he left, heading towards Sam's house. Every now and again, he'd go to class, but for the most part, he'd been skipping school since day one. His teachers didn't seem to notice. Or if they did, they just didn't care. He was a greaser, after all. One less hood for them to have to put up with during the day.

Sam didn't go to school. She had been home schooled since she could walk, and as a result, she'd gotten her diploma three years early. She was smart, she was resourceful…and she was bound to be home on a school day. As luck would have it, she was actually still in bed, asleep, when he started tossing rocks at her windowsill.

"Sam!" he called up to her window. "Hey! Yo, Sammy!" He waited as the window slid open. She poked her head out, squinting at him. She just looked at him for a moment.

"Hawkins, don't you have school?" she finally spat. He grinned.

"Nah. Self-motivated holiday." She smiled, then disappeared from the window. He leaned against the shell of a burnt-out card until she came downstairs, pulling a hoodie over her worn-out jersey. She was still in her pajamas, but she hadn't touched her hair, and there wasn't so much as a single trace of makeup. Most of the time, she liked to look her best, but Sam had her moments where she quite frankly didn't care. He loved that about her.

"Morning." she said sleepily, and he kissed her forehead.

"Morning." He pulled her into a hug, and she played with his hair, accidentally touching a bump on the back of his head. He winced, and she frowned.

"What's wrong?" He shrugged, not wanting to tell her.

"I hit my head under a desk." She tenderly felt the bump.

"Okay…" she said, not believing him, but not pressing him, either. She smiled at him, and tugged at his earring instead. "What are we gonna do today?" He grinned.

"Come on, I'll show you." Sam followed him to a corner of the scrap yard. She'd often watched him while he worked on various projects. She had next to no idea what he was doing half the time, because her knowledge as far as mechanics went covered cars and the occasional household appliance. The things Jim made were…other-worldly. She'd seen him tinkering with rejected car parts and come up with a holograph projector. The week before, he'd managed to come up with a gizmo that hotwired cars just by plugging it into a cigarette lighter. The object that sat on the work table now, however, was much bigger than either of these. It was shaped like a surf-board, welded together out of different pieces of metal. There was a pressure switch near one end, and when he pressed on it, a triangular sail sprang up. It was made of a sort of material Sam had rarely ever seen before.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, gently tracing the glowing solar-cells with her fingers.

"Special order." he lied. He closed the sail and picked up the board. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."

"Where?" she asked as she followed him to the truck. He set the board carefully in the bed, then shut the tailgate.

"You'll see." After dashing back inside to exchanged her terrycloth shorts, jersey, and sandals for a pair of jeans, a tank top and a pair of boots, she climbed in the passenger's side, and he pulled out of the scrap yard. They drove until they had reached the city limits, where there wasn't much but empty fields and, further out, farmland. Jim unloaded the board and set it on the ground. He slid his foot under the foothold, and moved it around to test its strength, a habit he'd practiced since his childhood. Sam leaned against the truck, her arms crossed over her chest and a skeptical look on her face.

"What…are you doing?" she asked. He held out his hand. "No."

"Come on, Sam-"

"No. I don't know what that thing is, or what it does, but no." He gave a smile that sent shivers up her spine. She knew that look by now, the one that suggested adventure and thrilling experiences. And a near brush with death, if she knew him at all. Still, he held out his hand.

"Trust me, Sam. You'll love this." She hesitated. She took his hand.

In a flash of light and a sonic boom, they were off. Farmland and fields passed by them in flashes of greens and browns. The wind whipped her long hair around like a nest of snakes, and it stung her face and bare arms, but Sam didn't dare let go of his waist to hold it down or tie it back. They were rising away from the ground. First they were barely above the ground, then over a fence, and then above the trees.

Higher and higher they went, and Sam gripped his waist with white knuckles. When he turned back to look at her, she smiled.

"This is crazy!" She screamed to be heard over the sound of the wind rushing in their ears. He smirked.

"This is nothing!" he turned back around, focusing on controlling the surfer. Had he glanced at her again, he would have seen the smile leave her lips. Sam looked down below them, and gripped him tighter. It was such a long way down. Suddenly, they leveled out. She looked anxiously at Jim as he dropped the solar sail and turned around, embracing her. They fell. They were falling, plummeting towards the ground. Jim moved the board so that they were spinning as well. Sam was totally freaking out. She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth to do so, he pressed their lips together. Adrenaline poured through her system, both from the fall, and from Jim, and she felt light-headed. She was upside-down. She was falling. She was flying. He was holding her close, caressing her face with one hand. She felt his breath on her cheek as he kissed her, and she closed her eyes.

Then he suddenly let go of her, turning back around and pulling up the sail again. Her stomach lurched, and she grabbed onto him as the skimmed just above the ground. He narrowly avoided a tree, then totaled someone's mailbox. Envelopes went flying everywhere, and a very cross man was shouting obscenities from his lawn. Sam gripped Jim's arm.

"Again." she said. "Do it again!" Jim smiled, and tilted the board upwards again.

By the time they stopped, school had just let out. Jim drove Sam back to her house, and they put the surfer in the shed.

"That was _amazing_!" she said as she hugged him around his neck. "I've never done _anything _like that before! Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Where I'm from, there's not much worth doing." Jim explained as he picked up his backpack from her back porch. "Montressor's a mining planet. Nothing but dirt as far as the eye can see. But there are a ton of cliffs and canyons, and those make for some pretty awesome surfing routes." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'd better go. My dad's been…well, I'd better go." Sam groaned.

"One of these days, Jim Hawkins, you are _mine_ after sunset." she teased him, and he blushed.

"Yeah, yeah. Catch ya later, Sammy." She kissed him back, and the teasing light left her eyes.

"Good night."

As he walked home, Jim thought more about her. She didn't know that his last name wasn't Hawkins anymore, because he hadn't told her. Just like he hadn't told her who his dad was. But for that, he had a very good reason. As it turned out, Samantha's mother was one of Dallas' least-favorite women, to put it nicely. Her mother's maiden name Angela Sheppard, sister to Timothy Sheppard. As far as he understood, Dallas and Tim had been friends a long time ago. They were both greasers, and sure, they'd' gotten in their fair share of fights, but Dallas had crossed a line when he'd dated Angela. And had cheated on her. Several times. As a result, Tim and Dallas hadn't been on speaking terms since, and that had been almost nineteen years ago. Angela had gotten married, had Sam, had her husband run out on her, and then had dumped her wayward daughter with one of her ex-husbands relatives before taking of to who-knew-where. Sam called him Uncle Jake, but whether or not he was really her uncle, Jim had no idea. And she'd heard quite a bit about old Dallas Winston from her mama before she was even knee-high. She hated him, considered him the scum of the earth. Jim wasn't too excited about confessing his relation to the hood. He had to come clean sooner or later. Hopefully…it would be later. _Way_ later.

Unsure of whether or not he should go home, Jim stopped by the DX, which was usually where Gauge and Rontamel went after school. If Dallas was still mad, he'd probably be better off staying out in the park or the lot over night. Still, Pony had said only that Dallas had needed to cool off. There was a chance he'd be okay now. He'd been at the DX for maybe half an hour when Dallas walked up.

"Jim." Hearing his name, Jim winced, but turned to his father. Dallas didn't look mad. In fact, with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slouched, he looked a little out of place. Jim walked over to him.

"Uh…hi." It sounded lame, but Jim couldn't think of anything else to say. He saw something in his father's eyes that he wasn't used to seeing. He couldn't name it.

"I…I was…" Dallas mumbled, then cleared his throat. "I can't…I shouldn't have…I'm sorry. What I did last night…I'm sorry." Jim just stared at him, no idea what to say. Dally didn't apologize, to anyone. Dallas ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "We, uh…we need to talk. You and me. If you wanna hang around here, that's fine. Just, uh…come home, alright? Tonight." Jim was finally able to move his head enough to nod. "Ok…uh, see you then kid." Dallas walked away, and Jim went back to the DX just as Steve's mustang started spouting smoke rings from the exhaust pipe.

"Ah, Gauge! What did you do?" Steve laughed, and as the rest of their company gathered around to fix whatever had gone wrong, Jim stood off to the side in silence, more or less stunned.

Dallas had spent the better part of the day cleaning up his house. The cigarette butts and broken glass, which the night before had gotten a great deal more plentiful, were gone. He hadn't gone out of his way to get a vacuum cleaner or anything of that matter, but he'd put things back where they had originally been when he'd moved into the dump. Which wasn't saying much. The tiny two-bedroom house he was renting had been in pathetic shape for years. Usually buck rented it to anyone hiding from the law, or sometimes used it as collateral for a debt he couldn't pay off. A few times, some of Buck's big city friends had threatened to throw Dallas out so that they could take it. The idea was so absurd, he'd laughed until his sides ached. The house was worth about as much as Buck. Nothing but a roof over your head. The foundation was questionable at best, the electricity and water worked only half the time, the front door was the only one with a lock on it, in the winter it was freezing cold and in the summer unbearably hot. It was four walls and a roof. Enough said.

And even this shabby excuse for a house was out of his price range. Before the kid had gotten there, he'd made his money by playing poker, and thanks to Tim Sheppard and his gang, he'd always been able to make enough to pay the rent. However, they eventually got wise to Dallas, and figured out he didn't play fair. He'd been dogging Tim ever since. And after the court had found enough evidence on him to put him away for a very, very long time, Dallas had fallen _way_ behind on his rent. By some miracle, Buck hadn't had the sense to ask where Dallas had been for the past several months. He didn't come asking for rent until he was short on cash himself, and as a result, Dallas hardly paid on time. He never seemed to forget how much was owed him, however, which meant Dallas needed money. But now he had a minor living with him, and he was out on parole, and he'd nearly been put back in jail twice now. So his usual illegal poker games wouldn't work, even if Tim wasn't ready to shoot him. That left two options. Saddle bronc, and the Slash J. Dallas was pretty good in rodeos, and he made decent money off riding, but there weren't going to be any rodeos for quite awhile. That left his part-time job as a jockey. Whenever the Slash J's professionals couldn't make a race, Dallas would show up to replace them.

And when the phone rang, who else could it possibly be but Buck, asking that Dallas cover for the Slash J that night. Dallas looked at the clock. If he left right then, he would make it in time.

"Buck, I can't. I've got plans tonight."

"Look, tell your dame date's off!" Dallas rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that, I-"

"This is a big race! Huge! And India Man's got a ton of money on it. He's won almost ever race this season, but his rider just pulled out. This is gonna be big, Dally. Big!"

"Buck, I'm busy." Dallas said again. "I'm not gonna do-"

"You owe me six months rent, Winston." Buck's voice implied that there was no argument to be made. "Be there, two hours." He hung up, and Dallas groaned. He wanted to be there when Jim got home. But Buck was right. If India Man had won several races already, chances were there would be a fair amount on his name that night. He felt the back of his neck and swore under his breath.

"Sorry, kid."

A/N: Usually, my page-per-chapter goal is five pages, but this one ended at four and a half. Details in this chapter were sketchy as well, and I'll probably take it down and re-do it later. For now, though, this is the third chapter to Second Chances.

Reviews appreciated greatly! If anyone has any ideas, or questions about the characters, or anything, review and tell me. It'd be a HUGE help.

-SilverEyes


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! (Looks through them) Ooh, look! Flames! Wow, you guys are _so supportive_! You guys know you can click the little 'back' button and leave the page right?

And to Nightingale, I appreciate all of your support and help. Without your tips, this fan fiction would _never_ have gotten put up here 0.o You're a real friend :)

dirtISkrazy - thanks for your help, and for not minding all my questions. Here's chapter 4! :)

I realize also that I haven't been posting the infamous disclaimer.

This applies to all chapters: I do not own Jim Hawkins, Dallas Winston, or any characters from their respective fandoms. Only my original characters(the ones you've never heard of before) and the plot belong to me.

And if anyone has any ideas for a horse's name other than 'India Man', sharing is caring! Lol, on with the story.

-SilverEyes

Chapter 4

"And in gate four, with an unexpected winning streak, is the Slash J's India Man, as well as their favorite stand-in jockey, Dallas Winston." Dallas gripped the reins in one hand as India pawed the ground irately. Something was wrong. His breathing was all wrong, his ears were back. Dallas had ridden India before. The horse was usually the first one out of the gates, even if he'd always come in second or third. But now there was something wrong. He should have seen it earlier. No wonder the horse had shied away from him. India stamped his hooves and nickered as he chewed at the bit in his mouth.

"Easy, boy, easy." Dallas said, trying to soothe him. "It's alright, boy, shh."

"Winston!" Dallas turned to see the Slash J's manager off to the side. Dallas bit his lip. India had a lot of money riding on this race. But if Dallas was right, and there was something wrong with the horse, it would be better to pull out now. He waved the manager over, and when he got nearer to the gates, he explained the horse's condition. The man looked annoyed.

"You expect me to believe that he's sick? Eddie ran him this morning, and he was fine!" Dallas glared at him as the horse tossed it's head, obviously agitated.

"Look, man, I just think that-"

"You're being paid to race him, Dally, not doctor him." With that, the man walked away. Dallas rolled his eyes, and pulled India back into position. All bets had been placed, and the announcer's voice had died away. The bell rang, and the gates were thrown open. India, a true racehorse at heart, burst forward with the others. At first, they stayed with the pack. The roar of the crowds, the sound of hooves thundering on the track, and India's irregular breathing were all Dallas could hear. He urged the horse forward, and they broke away from the pack, rounding the bend. It was India and another top racehorse, named Lighting Bolt, tied for first. Both horses were running flat-out, neither showing any signs of slowing, neck and neck with the competition.

Then India bucked.

Had Dallas not been an experienced rider, he'd have easily been thrown off the horse and possibly trampled to death by the other horses. As it was, though, he felt the horse's movements a split-second before they happened, a skill learned from riding saddle bronc. Dallas gripped the reins and held on as India threw his back legs into the air, then reared up on them, pawing the open air. Other riders and their mounts steered around the spooked horse, narrowly missing them. Dallas didn't let go of his breath until the last horse, at the very back, had shot past them. A bell rang, and the crowd cheered for the winners, and some of the special trainers ran out onto the track to get a hold of India. He was braying and still bucking, and despite his efforts, Dallas couldn't calm him down. They had to pull him off of India's back, and even then he refused to leave the horse.

"I told you there was something wrong with 'em!" he shouted at the trainer, who ignored him but grew quite red in the face. Ignoring the jeers of the winner's fans and the other shouts of the people gathered near the exit, Dallas led a still-anxious India back to the stables. He held him there and didn't leave until a vet showed up. India had calmed considerably, but it was obvious he was still out of sorts. After checking him over, the vet walked over to the feed bins and pulled the lid off.

"What's wrong with him?" Dallas asked. The trainer shoved him back a step.

"You hush up, I'll ask the questions here!" he snapped, then turned to the vet. "What's wrong with him?" Dallas' anger flared, but for the moment he pushed it aside and looked at the vet, who was letting the feed run through his fingers as he examined it.

"It's colic. How was he this morning? Feverish? Did he eat anything?"

"Yeah, his normal amount. Colic? How is that possible? He's been fine all day!"

"The symptoms take awhile to show. But it's definitely colic." Dallas left the two men to the horse, and went straight to India's trailer. Inside was a feedbag that the horse had been wearing when he'd gotten to the track. Dallas picked it up and poured some of the grain out in his hand. In the sparse light of the parking lot, a sliver of green caught his attention. It felt leathery between his fingers, and it smelled sweet. He brought the feedbag back to the vet, who took the leaves.

"Yep, there's your answer. Oleander. That'll make any horse sick." he said disdainfully. "Looks like India here was sabotaged. Who fed him this morning?" The trainer was about to answer him when another man ran into the room.

"Lucky's sick, doc! Come take a look at him, will you?" The vet picked up his bag and left before Dallas or the trainer could say anything else. When he was gone, the trainer shook his head.

"That's what you get for racing horses in a place like this." he muttered, watching Dallas unsaddle the horse. "Riffraff like your kind screwin' up the horses like this." Dallas's cold gaze turned to him.

"What do you mean, my kind?"

"A couple of no-good kids were feeding the horses this morning, that's what I mean!" the man snapped. "'Cept of course they dressed better than you. Must've been from the rich side of town. All attitude and throwing things around like they owned the place!" Dallas paused.

The owner of Lighting Bolt was a man who worked at a bank on the west side. A Soc if he'd ever seen one. And he had a son, whom Dallas had seen lurking around before the race. The family boasted that they only ran their horses for sport, and that they donated their winnings to local charities, but Dallas knew better.

"They still here?"

"The winner and his family are celebrating in the conference room." the trainer snorted. "Rich cheats." Dallas, who had finished rubbing India down by this point, dropped the brush and started off in the direction of the parking lot. "Hey, where do you think you're going, punk? Someone's gotta tell Bucky, and it ain't gonna be-" Dallas turned and knocked him flat on his back, barely breaking his stride. As the trainer sat swearing on the ground, Dally continued on his way.

Dallas loved very few things. Racing was one of them. While he cheated on girls, stole from store clerks, rolled drunks and basically showed no respect for anyone or anything else, he never cheated at horse racing. He loved the adrenaline rush when the horse burst through the gates. He loved feeling the horse's muscles flex underneath him as it ran. And winning was ok, too. Personally, Dallas didn't care if he won. He could deal with losing, even if it meant not getting a paycheck. He pretended to care, though. If he didn't he'd lose his job. But normally he was happy either way. Racing was almost sacred to him.

The only thing that set Dallas off, truly, when he lost was if someone else had rigged the race for it to turn out that way. He cornered them as they were climbing into their car, and threw the leaves he'd found in one boy's face.

"Came to thank you for your little gift." he said, smiling dangerously. The first one just stared at him, but the other one made the mistake of getting up in Dally's face.

"Get outta here, greaser." he laughed. "You and your colt didn't even finish. Isn't that enough of an embarrassment for one day?" Dallas grinned.

"Nope, don't think so." The other Soc climbed out of the car.

"I think he's asking for a fight, Rod." he said, circling behind Dallas. Rod smirked.

"I think you're right, Billy." He shoved Dallas with the tips of his fingers. "You just walked into-" Dallas slugged him, then turned on Billy. Both Soc's were roughly eighteen or nineteen, just a couple of high school kids jerking around, thinking they were the hottest thing in town. It took him maybe ten minutes before he had them both out cold. The two of them wouldn't know what hit them. Just a couple of wet-behind-the-ear, snot-nosed, trust fund brats. But nobody messed with Dallas. _Nobody_.

Billy moved to pull his phone from his pocket, and yelped. Yep, his arm was definitely sprained, if not worse. He slowly picked himself up, whimpering. Rodney was sitting against one of the cars, smoking a cigarette.

"Rod, my wallet's gone!" he said as he noticed its absence. Rodney spit on the grass.

"Filthy greaser took all our cash." he muttered. Billy winced. Aside from their tainted winnings, he'd had about a hundred and fifty dollars. He was supposed to deliver it to his father that night.

"Your ol' man's gonna kill you." Rodney said, unsympathetically, when Billy told him. Billy winced. He should have known.

"Help me up, Rod."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Filthy hood broke my leg."

"Oh." For a moment neither said anything. Then,

"We'll get him back. Just wait. We'll get him back." Billy stood up shakily, then held his good arm out to his buddy.

"Don't ya reckon we should just leave him alone?" Rodney ground his teeth as he handed Billy the keys and climbed into the car.

"He's just a greaser, Bill."

"He's Dallas flippin' Winston!"

"So what?" Rodney snapped. Billy fell silent. "He's just a common hood. And any hood ain't no match for me."

"But how would we go about getting back at him?"

"Every hood's gotta have some weakness." Rodney winced as he set his leg on the floor of the car. "We'll find his."

Little did he know that just as he said this, Dallas was pushing Jim's bangs away from his face, careful not to wake him up. It was late, and the kid had school the next day, but Dallas half wished they could talk now. Jim had walked through the front door that night to find an empty house. On the coffee table he'd found the note that Dallas had left, saying he'd gone over to Buck's and that he'd be back soon. Apparently, he'd switched on the TV and had eventually fallen asleep. Dallas turned off the TV and the lights, and went to bed. It didn't seem right to him, to miss his son for a race, but he'd had his back against a wall. _What was I supposed to do?_ he thought bitterly. _It's not like I __**wanted**__ to ditch him_. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. He needed help. And he knew just the person to ask.

"I don't know what to do. I'm not cut out to be a dad. When his mom was around, it was easy. But now that it's just me…it's…hard."

"I know it is, Dal." Johnny said, trying to comfort his friend. As soon as he'd woken up to an empty house, Dallas had gone to talk with Johnny. The two of them were in the Cade's kitchen, Dallas staring out the back window, and Johnny sitting at a small table with a cup of coffee. Dallas ran his hands through his hair anxiously, and turned to his friend.

"He left for school this morning before I got up."

"Why didn't you talk to him last night?"

"Well, I was gonna. But…"

"But?" Johnny challenged, raising one eyebrow. Dallas shrugged.

"Buck called last night, pulled me into a race." Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Aw, Dallas-"

"Hey, it was a last-minute emergency. I didn't have a choice, alright?" Dallas snapped. Johnny Cade shot him a look.

"You _always_ have a choice, Dally. Just like anybody else. I know you think Buck would fire ya, but maybe it'd be better that way." Dallas turned to him, bewildered.

"How d'you figure?" Johnny shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. Dallas glared back at him. "_What?_"

"Dallas, get a job." he said with a laugh. "A _real _job. One that you can make a decent, honest living at, like the rest of us." Dallas still glared at him.

"Are you sayin' I cheat on those races?"

"Not hardly." Johnny put his coffee down. "Listen, Dallas. When my kids were born, I was working part time at the Dingo, and Alice was working at a grocery store. When we found out she was pregnant, I got a _real_ job. Steve and Soda have gotten better with their's, and they do alright stayin' mechanics. Darry still works construction. Pony teaches. We all got real jobs, but you're still living the way you did when me and Pony were in high school." Dallas shrugged.

"So? I'm doing just fine."

"Dallas. You ditched your kid for a horse." Dally closed his eyes.

"When you say it like that, it sounds bad."

"That's because it _is_ bad." Dallas groaned.

"Well, what am I gonna do? With the reputation I have, nobody's gonna give me a job around here. Besides, I don't…really…have any skills." he said with a sigh, and dropped into a chair. "I don't know what I'm doing." Johnny thought for a minute.

"Well, I wouldn't say that you don't have _any _skills. You like working with horses, right?"

"Well, yeah, but you just said-"

"No, no." Johnny waved off the argument. "I was talking about _racing_ 'em. But you take care of 'em pretty good, too, don't you?" Dallas sat up a little straighter. He always made sure that whatever horse he'd ridden had been put away properly after every race. He brushed them down, like he had India Man the night before, gave them water, and if it was cold enough he hunted up a blanket for them.

"Yeah…?"

"Well, why don't you ask Buck if the Slash J is looking for new guys to help out with the horses? Plus, having someone like you around their stables would keep any unwanted visitors away." Dallas thought it over. He didn't like the idea of getting, what Johnny referred to as, a 'real job'. It meant commitment, and getting up early and showing up on time and answering to someone else. He did well with none of those things.

"Come on, Johnny, I can manage the way I-"

"You're gonna lose him, Dal." Johnny said, suddenly very serious. "You've already been to court twice since he got here. It's a wonder you're still free, and he's still with you. You know your probation officer is gonna start asking questions sooner or later." Dallas winced. Johnny was right. He couldn't afford to be reckless, especially if it meant losing Jim. He gave a defeated sigh.

"_Alright_." he said, giving in. "I'll ask him."

"You wanna do what now?" Dallas leaned back in his chair, holding Buck Merril's glazed-over gaze. Buck was wasted. Hardly ever what Dallas would call 'sober', he'd decided he might as well talk to him while it was fresh on his mind.

The downside, unfortunately, was that he'd had to bring Jim.

"You brought a kid with you?" Buck had asked, none too happily, when he'd first spotted Jim. "The last time you dragged some of those kid greasers over here I got searched by the cops." Dally just shrugged.

"This one won't cause any trouble." Dallas had said, and sent Jim a look. He was right, Jim wouldn't cause any trouble; He feared Dallas' wrath too much to risk it. Buck seemed to believe him and they over to a somewhat private table in the far corner of the room. Jim took the hint and stayed by the bar.

A girl somewhere in her twenties was eyeing him closely. He sat down on a barstool, suddenly feeling very wary of his situation. He couldn't help but notice...she was wearing shorts. Not just any shorts. These shorts barely had enough material to cover her. She wore a low-cut pink blouse with tiny black stars on it. _Very _low cut. She was a blonde, with amazingly dark brown eyes. She winked at him, and he looked away. He knew about girls like her, who hung around places like this. Nothing but trouble. He knew from seeing it first-hand, too. Back home there were always stories of the women that hung around the taverns, and the trail of heartbroken spacers they'd left in their wake. She was no different, other than her clothes. So at first he ignored her.

This became increasingly difficult to do when she suddenly appeared right in front of him.

"Hey, sweetie," she drawled. Jim jumped, and nearly toppled off the barstool. He stared at her as she leaned in closer to him. "You're a cute one."

"Um…" he said, and tried to back away. "I, uh…"

"How old are you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"S-sixteen...ahem." He said, and cleared his throat. She moved next to him, and put her head on his shoulder.

"Mmm...you're just a kid, aren't you?" she breathed into his ear. He felt a chill run down his spine, and he lightly pushed her away.

"Look, not to be rude or anything, but I've already got a girlfriend." She looked slightly more interested, and he could have slapped himself.

"Is she here? I don't see her…" she purred, and literally thrust herself at him. He shoved her away.

"I said back off!" he snapped. Months of living with Dallas gave him that much nerve. He lost it, though, when she slapped him across the face.

"Fine!" she hissed at him, and strutted away. It hadn't really hurt. But being slapped by a woman in public was embarrassing, and there were quite a few other guys around. Laughter filled the room, and one man shouted,

"Definitely Dallas' kid!" Jim rolled his eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets and went back to the barstool. Half-leaning, half-sitting, he waited for Dallas.

He was wearing an old pair of Darry's jeans, a white t-shirt that had belonged to Ponyboy, a light-blue flannel over shirt that had been Soda's, and a black pair of sneakers that had also belonged to him. Around his waist, the only thing keeping the large pair of jeans on was his old belt. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. These weren't just greasers. These were hoods and tramps.

When Dallas finally came back, Jim was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realize it until his father had had walked out the front door. Jim hurried to catch up with Dallas, and as a result ran smack into his back. Dallas turned to him, and laughed suddenly.

"What'd you do to your face?" He asked. Jim blushed.

"...some dumb blonde got in my face." He muttered. Dallas laughed again, and Jim let the gap between them grow.

The Dingo was buzzing with activity when they got there. Greasers and middlers had the restaurant packed out, and trying to find a parking space would've been murder. Luckily, they hadn't come by car. Gage was standing around with Darry and Soda Curtis, laughing and joking around with Rontamel. Darry just rolled his eyes in annoyance. Jim didn't dislike Darry, but he'd rather be with anyone else in the gang. Darry was all-business. Well, most of the time. And he tended to be too strict.

"Hey, man!" Gage said, slapping him a high-five. "Glad you decided to show up! Jace said you ditched him, so I didn't figure you'd show." Jim glared at the back of Dally's head as he said hello to the Curtis brothers.

"Dal made me go to Buck's with him. If you see Jace before I do, can you tell him?" Gage nodded.

"Will do, buddy. Hey, turns out Jackie didn't show." Jackie Maverick was the only girl in school who would have given Gage Randle the time of day. She was a middle-class girl, who acted Soc and dressed greaser. She was a decent enough girl. She made good grades, she was shy, and she was very pretty. And Gage's first crush.

They hung out for a while, testing to see how far from Dallas and the others they could get. It turned out to be pretty far, and they passed the time by flirting with various girls and making crude jokes.

Then the fight broke out.

If it hadn't been for the fight, none of it would have happened. Even after experiencing a mutiny by pirates, Jim still hated violence. Dallas, however, was an _entirely _different story.

It made Jim's stomach turn to watch as some hitch hiker and a tough greaser from their neighborhood started going at it. Dallas shouted with the crowd, as did Gage. When the greaser broke the other guy's nose, Jim winced painfully._ I've got to get out of here. _He thought. It had been fun, but he had to leave. Slowly, he began edging away from Dallas and the guys. They didn't notice anything, and soon, he was walking away from the Dingo.

"Man, how are we supposed to get him?" A broad-shouldered Soc named Rodney Smith asked. His buddy, Roy Nelson, shrugged.

"We just wait."

"Even after the fight, he's gonna be with his buddies!" The third, Louie Moscovits, pointed out. Rodney still had a black eye, thanks to Dallas, although his sprained leg was doing better.

"Man, I told you we should'a left that blasted horse alone." Billy complained.

"Winston lost, didn't he?" Rodney snapped back. "That's what we wanted, and that's what we got."

"Yeah, easy for you to say! He didn't try to bust your neck!" Billy groaned as he winced in pain. "Lousy greaser." They watched as Dally and two other guys cheered some greaser on. A kid stood with them, and was slowly edging away from the crowd. Roy elbowed Billy in the ribs, considering it too late.

"Hey, look!"

"_Ow!_"

"That kid there! The grease." He pointed at the single greaser walking away from the fight. Rodney's eyes widened.

"That's his kid? I've heard rumors, but I never thought..." He let out a long whistle. "Where's he been hiding that little punk?" Roy watched as Dallas searched the crowd, his attention having been drawn away from the fight. He was looking for the boy.

Roy started the car, and started to follow the boy.

"Get your blades ready." he said with a smile.

The night air was peaceful and calm, and all was quiet now that he was away from the Dingo. Sometimes he questioned why he put up with stuff like that, when he could just walk away. He'd get an earful from Dallas later for walking alone, especially without carrying a blade. But he could deal. He just stuffed his hands into his pockets, and picked his way along the empty streets, eyes glued to the stars. _I wonder if I could spot Montressor from here..._He didn't notice the red Corvette until it was almost on him.

"Hey, grease!" One of them shouted at him. He froze. It pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of him, and they climbed out. There were four of them. Two of them looked pretty bad off already, and seething mad. He took half a step backwards. "Chill, we ain't gonna hurt ya." the Soc that was driving the car said as he climbed out. "We just wanna talk to ya." He turned to his buddies. "Right guys?"

"Yeah, just a little conversation." the other Soc that didn't look beat to a pulp reassured. For a moment, Jim faintly considered what Dallas would have done at that moment. He regretted leaving his switchblade at the house.

"Uh...what about?" He asked slowly. They all walked over to him, circling him.

"Oh, we met your old man yesterday." the first one said. He waved at the two beat-up Socs, and Jim gulped. _Dang it, Dally. _He thought crossly. Whatever he'd done to these Socs, they were going to make _him _pay for it. "Hey, don't look so anxious, kid." Once Soc put his arm around the boy's shoulders. Jim's heart rate accelerated, and he bolted. Running straight at the Corvette, he launched himself over the hood, and darted down the street.

"Get him!" Another Soc shouted, all kindness gone from his voice. They all chased after him. Forgetting the car, fortunately for him.

Dally was ticked off when he realized the boy had disappeared again. Jim was _always _managing to pull stuff like this, and it annoyed him to no end, since it meant he was on the streets alone. Again. Darry noticed, too, and offered to help search for him. Not one to stay behind, Soda also joined them.

"When I find that little punk..." Dally muttered under his breath. Darry shook his head in amazement, and nudged Soda with his elbow.

"You'd think that you could get away with murder, having Dally for a father." he whispered. Dallas didn't hear him, but Soda nodded.

"I know. Ironic, isn't it?" Darry opened his mouth to say something when Dallas threw his cigarette to the ground and swore aloud.

Jim bolted across the street in front of them, almost getting hit by a truck in the process. He neatly jumped over the hood, and kept going. The driver laid on the horn, shouting several things at him, and Dallas looked furious.

"Stupid kid-" Then the Socs rounded the corner. Four of them, tall and muscular. The two at the back were limping slightly, and Dallas narrowed his eyes at them. "Those two rigged the race last night." he thought aloud. They must have seen he and Jim at the Dingo and connected the dots. Socs might not have been totally smart, but they weren't totally stupid, either.

This didn't look good. Dallas took off running, Darry and Soda right on his heels.

Jim was having trouble seeing his way in the dark. He didn't know where he was going, either. He was all turned around. Besides, he knew that if he ran to someone's house, they'd most likely break down the door and get him, anyway. Only when a train whistle sounded did he realize they were on the overpass over the rail yard. Two Socs jumped out in front of him, and he skidded to a halt. Two were at his back. He was trapped. Panting hard, he backed up against the edge of the overpass.

"Well, well, well," one of them sneered. "Look what we found, guys. A little lost greaser." He pulled out a switchblade, and they circled Jim. "I got a message for your daddy, white trash." He grabbed Jim's arm, and the other three held him still as he ripped the sleeve of Soda's old shirt. Jim struggled, but it was no use. The Soc dragged the blade over his arm, and he shouted out in agony. Remembering what he'd learned during his brief stay at the IA, he started fighting them. Pinning two of them in major pressure points, he freed himself. He couldn't run, they'd catch up too fast. His only hope was if someone heard him yelling his head off, so that's what he started to do.

The first Soc came up behind him and pinned his arms to his sides. The second Soc, the one with a black eye, slugged Jim in the stomach three times. Jim wriggled free, just in time for the Soc landed a fourth punch in his gut. The force of the blow knocked him over the side of the overpass, and he hung on for dear life. He tried to climb back up, and one Soc slashed at his bicep with a switchblade. Dally, Darry, and Soda ran up as the Socs hauled Jim back over the low stone wall. They all laid into him, and his cries for help suddenly stopped.

Dallas felt as though someone had dropped an ice cube down his shirt.

With a half-crazed holler, he tackled the Soc, and dragged him off. He took the first two, and Darry handled the two worse-off Socs. Soda knelt next to Jim, and shook his shoulder.

"Jim?" He asked, with wide, worried eyes. Jim was lying on his side, the cuts on his arm staining the cement red. There was a cut above his right eye, and he was already feeling bruises forming over his entire body. His rib cage was killing him. He moaned, and laid his head against the ground.

The Socs ran off, and Dallas dropped to his knees beside Jim. Soda ran off to get his pick-up truck. Darry could do nothing but watch as the toughest hoodlum in Tulsa took his son into his arms.

"Kid? Kid, come on, say something!" He said, shaking him slightly. Jim opened his eyes, and was startled to see Dallas. He coughed, and tears jumped into his eyes. The pain was so intense...

"...Dad?" He asked shakily. Dally helped him to sit up a little, and began rubbing the back of his neck hard.

"Don't go to sleep, you hear me? Don't close your eyes. Stay awake!" He wasn't yelling at him, exactly, but his tone was sharp. Jim groaned.

Soda pulled up beside them, and Darry came over to them.

"Kid, can you get up?" Jim tried to stand up, only to give a short scream of agony when he put pressure on his foot. Dallas picked him up, and set him in the back seat, sitting next to him.

"Oh, god." Jim heard someone mutter. It couldn't have been Soda, Jim could see in the rearview mirror that he was biting his lower lip so hard it was bleeding. Darry was staring into the back seat, but his mouth wasn't moving. "Oh my god..." _Dallas?_ He craned his neck to see Dallas holding him close. He closed his eyes, and exhaustion consumed him as he fell asleep in Dally's lap.

Dally was sitting in a hallway, nothing but white linoleum all around him. Nothing could calm his nerves now, not even a cigarette. He'd been sitting there alone for the past hour; Soda and Darry had to get home to their kids. Around them, he'd maintained some of his cool. He'd sworn that the second the kid could walk again, he'd kill him.

But he didn't know if he meant it.

Dallas got up and began pacing again, slapping his empty pockets. Those Socs had meant business. If Jim had lost his grip on that wall, he'd be considering now how he was going to pay for a funeral instead of a hospital bill. The only people that acknowledged him at all were a few nurses. Well, and a police officer.

"What're you doing in here, son?" he asked, knowing Dallas' records all too well.

"I've got someone here." he said, trying hard not to add a few insults after that sentence. He needed to be here when the kid was awake, and the last time he'd insulted an officer he'd been arrested. The cop looked surprised.

"That kid in A5? The one from the gang fight?" Dally only glared at him. "Isn't he a bit young to be involved in something like that?" Dallas bit back a smirk.

"That's what I asked him when his kid was born." The cop's face flushed, and he left Dallas alone.

Finally, Dally couldn't take it anymore. He walked up to a doctor and asked about his son.

"Name?" The man in the white coat asked.

"Uh...Winston."

"Full name."

"James…Winston."

"This way." Why couldn't he remember? Jim had a middle name. What was it? _Why can't I remember?_

The doctor led Dallas into a small room with two beds in it. The first was empty. Jim was asleep in the second. A doctor had stitched the cuts on his forehead and arm, and his ribs were bandaged.

"...Is he gonna be alright?" Dallas asked. The doctor nodded.

"He should be alright. A very slight concussion, a sprained ankle, and two bruised ribs. But aside from that, he's okay. Are you his father?" Dallas nodded mutely. "He can leave in the morning, but I suggest you keep him in bed for at least two weeks, three if he's still in pain." Dallas nodded again, and the doctor left.

He sat down beside the bed, staring at him again. He really did look a lot like Sara. He had her hair color, and her gentle nature. Those eyes were definitely his, though. And, as much as he hated to admit it, his stubborn will, too.

Dally tousled his hair lightly, thinking hard. He hardly ever saw the kid, though they lived in the same house. He remembered when Jim had turned eight, he'd built something crossed between a skate board and a surf board. Dallas hadn't cared then, but now he was wondering what it had been. He smiled to himself as he remembered the first time the kid had gotten in trouble with the police. He'd been somewhat smug and proud at the time, and Sara hadn't liked it one bit. Yet another fight between them had engaged.

After a while, Dallas called Soda and asked him to bring his truck over. Normally he would have asked Steve, Two-Bit, or even Johnny, but Soda was more attached to the kid.

Dally took his son home that night, not waiting for the doctor to okay it.

"How bad off is he?" Soda asked. Dallas looked over his shoulder into the back seat.

"Doc said he's bedridden for the next couple of weeks, then to take it easy."

"Any permanent damage?" Dallas shook his head, and rattled off the list to Sodapop. Soda whistled. "Wow. Those Socs are really asking for it." Dally punched the door angrily.

"As soon as I can, I'm gonna fix 'em for this."

"Yeah, well, don't take it out on the truck." Soda muttered. Dally shot him a look, but didn't say anything.

Once Dallas carried the kid inside(he was still out), he was exhausted. Dallas walked into his bedroom and laid the kid down as briskly as he dared. Once he'd kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, he collapsed next to the kid, and fell asleep instantly.

A/N: Seven pages, once again. Extra long to make up for it being so…meh. From the point where they got to the Dingo to the end, I am not satisfied with… -.- Reviews are appreciated and encouraged! They help me write the next chapter faster! So review! Plz. =)

-SilverEyes


	5. Chapter 5

Special thanks to, Unbreakable Angel94, Efira-s, and AVPMfreakify101for adding _Second Chances_ to their story alerts/favorites! It means a lot you guys =) Once again, a big thank you to dirtISkrazy for the help and support. Otherwise have probably dropped this story by now, haha.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jim Hawkins, Dallas Winston, nor any characters from their respective fandoms.

I apologize for any typos, conflicting information, and/or the characters not acting anything like they should(Cannon ones, not OC's). I also apologize for the fact that in my last chapter, the dividers between the paragraphs were somehow removed, thereby causing the entire thing to be run-together and possibly be difficult to read. I'm new on the site, and when I've uploaded chapters before, it was done in a very rushed manner, so I didn't have time to fix this annoying problem. Bear with me.

-S

Chapter 5

"Aw, come _on_ Dally!"

"I said no!" Jim sat back with an aggravated growl. He'd been in bed for a week and a half, and he was sick and tired of it. His ribs didn't bother him all that much anymore, and he desperately wanted out of the house. However, Dallas wasn't having it.

"I'll just be at Jason's house, he lives right down the freakin' street!"

"Jim, I said no. Drop it.:"

"But-"

"James!" Jim fell silent, but kicked out savagely at the chair sitting next to the bed. He'd been dying to get out of Dallas' room ever since he'd realized he was stuck there. He didn't really wake up at first. There was a period of time- he had no way of telling how long- where he was suspended between dream and reality. He was awake enough to see darkness behind his eyelids, yet still deep enough in sleep that he felt weightless and had no real sense of time. There was a slight bit of pressure on his stomach at first. Slowly, it increased. Then it wasn't just pressure, but pain. A light sting, but still pain. Just not bad pain.

Less-okay pain.

Not okay pain.

_Ow, ow, ow!_

White-hot pain. No, _agony_.

He became fully awake, and yelped aloud, his hand going straight to his waist. It came in waves now, throbbing, causing him to sweat.

"Dallas!" he finally managed to scream. He didn't expect anyone to come- who would? He was in….Dallas' room. _Why am I in his bedroom?_ He thought, wildly looking around. What had happened? He was _never_ allowed in-

"Jim?" Dallas asked, walking quickly to the side of the bed. Jim ground his teeth together. He'd never hurt this much, and for him, that was saying something; when he was nine the foothold on his solar surfer had broken off and he'd fallen twelve feet to the rocky Montressian terrain. It was his mothers insistence that he wore a helmet that saved his life. He'd broken his arm, though.

But that pain was nothing compared to this.

Jim tried to sit up, to look at what it was he felt wrapped around his waist- because he was still partially incoherent, and surely this foreign object squeezing him so tight was what was causing this torture- but Dallas put one hand firmly on his shoulder, the other grabbing both his wrists and holding them away from his waist.

"Jim, stop." he said sternly, and Jim, totally confused and very much afraid, looked up at his father with pleading eyes. Dallas pushed the boy's bangs away from his eyes gently. "You got jumped. Coming home." His memories from the night before started to come back to him, and he stopped trying to get out of Dallas' grip. "Doc said you had two bruised ribs. They cut ya up real good too." For the first time, Jim noticed the bandages on his arm. He swallowed. Okay. He remembered the Socs. But surely Dallas hadn't fixed him up, and he'd mentioned a doctor. He remembered riding in Soda's pickup, the worry in Dallas' eyes-

_I called him dad_. He realized, and mentally winced. He shut his eyes, and turned his face away from Dallas. He hated his father. And Dallas didn't love him. How could he, if he'd abandon him, left him screaming on the docks?

"Why am I in your room?" Jim deadpanned. Dallas let go of his hands, and settled into a metal folding chair next to the bed.

"Thought you might as well be comfortable. You're bedridden for at least two weeks." Jim set his jaw. _Two weeks_. He and Sam had a date that Saturday. And missing it wasn't enough; he couldn't even tell her why. Not for two weeks. What if she thought he'd just dumped her and was avoiding her?

"Perfect." he muttered. They were quiet for a moment, then Dallas awkwardly cleared his throat.

"You hungry?" he asked. Jim looked at him incredulously.

"What?"

"There's some soup on the stove. You hungry?" Dallas offered again.

"No." As far as he remembered, Dallas could barely manage to make coffee. He didn't trust him with food.

"Okay, well, you're gonna eat it anyway." As it turned out, anything that needed to be heated up was within Dally's ability to cook. He hadn't tried anything past that, and Jim was thankful. He remembered that his mom had always been the cook, never his dad, and for good reason. The man burned everything, even water. Still, even though for time since he'd moved in with Dallas he wasn't hungry, Jim was growing distraught. He wasn't the type to be kept in doors. He couldn't stand it. He had to be moving, had to be doing something, _anything_. It was driving him mad.

"You pick that up." Dallas called from the other room. Jim ignored him, digging his nails into his palms. Two weeks, the doctor had said, and three more days until he was free of these walls, if Dallas even allowed him then. He felt caged, trapped.

Dallas rolled his eyes when his son didn't answer him. He was sort of sympathetic. As long as Jim was stuck in bed, he was stuck at home. Needless to say Jim wasn't the only one suffering. Dallas longed to get out of the house, specifically to track down the Socs that had _caused_ this mess. He wanted to let Jim out of the house, and he certainly seemed to be feeling better, but he wanted to make sure the boy's ribs were truly healed. A few more days couldn't hurt either of them.

Someone knocked on the door, and Dallas opened it to see Rontamel and Jason standing on his front porch. Ronto grinned at him.

"Hey Dally-"

"He's in my room." Dallas cut him off, and the boy nodded.

"Kay, thanks." Ronto and Jace went straight to the patient's bedside. Jim looked at them, relieved.

"Geeze, did ya take long enough?" he asked as he slapped Ronto a high-five. Jace righted the folding chair and sat down, resting his arms on the back of it.

"Wanted to, man, but my dad told me 'bout what happened. I figured you could use the R&R." Jace laid his chin on his arms.

"Same here." Jace said, then scoffed. "I hope you know that pretty much all of us have been on lockdown since your little run-in with those-"

"What?" Jim asked, sitting up quickly and hissing when he felt his ribs remind him of their present condition. Dallas was looking in through the door, and gave him a look that practically screamed 'I told you so'. Jim waved him off. "What do you mean?"

"Darry, for one, won't let Ray anywhere without an escort." Ronto said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Drives her to school every day, picks her up almost every day, and insists that one of the gang is with her all the time. When he can't pick her up, my dad gives her a lift to our house, and she stays there 'till he can come get her."

"Ain't just _Ray_, either. I haven't seen Mick and Min for awhile now, and my dad freaked out when he heard." Jace muttered. Ronto nodded.

"Well, no duh." Jace shot him a look.

"My mom wouldn't let Bonny and me out of her sight. She's cooled off a bit now, but I still have to watch Bonny whenever we go anywhere."

"My dad got me a new blade." Ronto held it up for them to see. "Sharp, too. Could split a hair with it."

"What about Gauge?"

"Him and Chevy don't leave the house anymore. Steve's got them on lock down, especially Chevy. Some Soc boy's been hitting on her lately."

"You think it's got anything to do with these guys, or just bad timing?"

"Who knows?" Ronto asked with a shrug. "But we don't typically mix anyways. Socs haven't given grease trouble since…" he caught Jason's stony gaze and his voice died away to nothing. Jim looked at him quizzically.

"Since when?" he asked innocently.

"Ryan. Since Ryan." Jason snapped. "Stupid Socs got better than they deserved if you ask me."

"Calm down, Jace, he don't know anything." Ronto said cautiously. "Remember? This kid don't come from here. Well, I mean…he don't know."

"Don't know _what_?" Jim asked, but before either could answer him, Dallas walked into the room.

"Jason. Rontamel." he snapped. All three turned to him. "I think y'all better go home."

"Dallas, they just got here." Jim said slowly, sensing that somehow they'd gotten on sensitive ground, but not knowing how or what it was. Dallas didn't say anything else. The boys said their goodbyes hastily and left. Jim was watching Dallas, trying to figure out his sudden change in mood. He swallowed. "Dal…what happened? Who's Ryan?" Dallas paused, the phone in his hand. He hung it up, and sighed.

"More like who _was_ Ryan." he muttered after a minute. He didn't want Jim to know. He definitely hadn't wanted Sara to know. He cursed the boys for having brought it up.

"What happened?"

"It…he was…look, kid, it happened a long time ago. It's a long story." Jim raised one eyebrow.

"You won't let me even get out of bed for three more days. I think we've got time." Dallas couldn't help but smile at him.

"It's not one I wanna be the one to tell ya either." Jim gave up and laid back against the pillow.

"You are so boring." Dallas bit back a laugh.

Three days would not pass fast enough. When they finally did, however, Jim was still moving gingerly. He winced as he pulled a shirt over his head, and Dallas frowned over his coffee cup.

"Are you _sure_ you wanna go to school today?" he asked. Jim nodded.

"'M fine Dal."

"Jim, I just want-"

"I know." Jim interrupted. Dallas smiled weakly.

"Alright." he said after a minute. "Hurry up, you're gonna be late." Even though he'd wanted to walk, Dallas insisted on driving him to school. Jim didn't trust his driving. All too often he'd heard about the repairs his various cars had needed from Soda and Steve. They got to the school without crashing, thankfully. Jim hopped out of the car and said a quick good bye over his shoulder before darting inside. Dallas frowned. _Why's he in such a hurry…?_ Jim had hated going to school when he was little. He did good, but he hated getting up that early in the morning. Dallas waited in the parking lot for a few more minutes before he backed up and left. He had other things to do.

Unbeknownst to Dallas, Jim hadn't strayed very far from the front doors. He waited inside, watching Dallas' car. _Leave, leave, c'mon leave already_. he thought to himself, drumming his fingers on the windowsill anxiously. He hadn't seen Samantha in two weeks, and it was driving him nuts worrying she'd think he was avoiding her or, even worse, had forgotten about her. And while he'd missed dates before or had been late several thousand times, and she'd always forgiven him, he didn't know what she'd make of two weeks without an explanation. When Dallas finally did pull out of the parking lot, Jim bolted for the nearest exit, not caring who saw him. Thankfully, none did. He ran as fast as he could, taking every shortcut he knew, until he found himself outside the back gate of the junkyard where Sam lived. He slipped inside, panting, and started darting through the piles of scrap metal. He was about to call out her name when he spotted her. Sam stood hidden behind a pile of the rejected metal, a tire iron in hand and a murderous gleam in her eyes. Jim squinted his eyes as he noticed a third figure moving silently through the yard. It was an adult, a man, who was of muscular build. He slapped his hand over his eyes as the man stepped into the sunlight. It was Dallas.

Of course it was.

"Yo, Tim. Mister Timothy Sheppard!" Dallas called out. Nobody answered him. "Sheppard! Got a proposition for ya!" Still nothing. The junkyard had been a favorite hang out for the Sheppard's. Due to their last meeting, Dallas was wary of meeting Tim on his personal territory, and for good reason. Tim wanted blood. Dally's blood, to be exact. First off there was the whole mess with Angela. Add to that the fact that Dallas had swindled a _large_ amount of money out of Tim in their last poker game, and it was no wonder he had a grudge against Dally. Something flew past Dallas' ear, and he turned sharply. He didn't see anything or hear anyone, but he could sense that he wasn't alone. He swallowed. It wasn't unlike Timothy to have a gang of greasers hanging about.

"Tim, I know we've got some bad blood between us. Socs, man. Gonna fix 'em good this time. If you're interested-" _Clang!_ Dallas whirled around to see a tire iron land on the dusty ground. He pulled out his switchblade and looked around cautiously, waiting for an attack. When none came, he lowered his blade. "You know where to find me, Tim." Without another word, he left the way he'd come.

As soon as he was sure Dallas was gone, Jim began whimpering.

"Ow, ow, ow, okay leggo!" Sam released the grip she had on his hand between her teeth.

"What is your _problem?_" she snapped, shoving him backward. He winced as she slammed him into the metal. "I could've nailed him!" Jim gasped, trying to get his breath back.

"Sam-"

"That no-good greaser deserved it, and you know it!"

"_Sammy_-"

"He's a hood, a liar, a _cheat_, and you just-"

"Samantha, stop!" Jim finally yelled.

"Why did you stop me?" she hollered back.

"Because he's my father, dang it!" Jim finally spat, wincing as he rubbed his stomach lightly. "Alright? Dally's my dad." Sam was stunned. She stared at him, looking him in the eye.

For a long time, she'd thought he had beautiful eyes. As bright as the sky, as easy to read as a child's picture book. Now, now that she knew they were Dallas' eyes, they seemed little more than steely-gray and cold. She stepped back from him, and they came out of the niche he'd knocked her into. She'd been in mid-swing when he'd made his move, a flying tackle as he'd wrapped one arm around her waist and the other over her mouth. It would appear that he'd sustained _some_ of what he'd been taught in his beginners classes at the IA, because other than the intended weapon landing less than quietly, Dallas didn't seem to have heard a thing. Sam narrowed her eyes as Jim leaned on a pile of tires to support himself.

"What happened to you? Where have you _been_?" she asked. Jim shrugged.

"I didn't want you to know. I mean, I know you hate him-"

"So you _lied_ to me. I can see that." she snapped. "I'm asking why you've been gone for so long. And why are you limping like that?" Jim shook his head.

"I can explain that latter. I didn't lie to you."

"Yes you did!"

"I did not." Jim said forcefully. "I just didn't tell you-"

"Oh whatever, it's the exact same thing!" She was furious, that much was obvious, but since he was too, he didn't care.

"Why should it matter? Huh?" he challenged. "So he's my dad. So what? What does it change?"

"He's a cheat! He's scum, he's-"

"I know that!" Jim yelled at her, and it seemed to stun her. "I don't take up for him, Samantha. I never have, and I never will. He abandon me and my mother when we needed him most. My mother died, and the only reason I'm living with him now is because with me in the mix, it keeps him out of jail. Okay?" She stared at him, as if weighing his explanation. Gauging it, and him. For the first time since he'd met her, he was genuinely mad at her. How dare she label him?

"Jim, I just…you weren't honest with me." she said finally. "And that says a lot. You hid that from me, and if you can keep a secret like that, what else could you hide?"

"I'm not-"

"I'm not saying you are. All I'm saying is that you _could_, and that's enough for me." Jim set his jaw, staring her down.

"So that's it then? Just like that, you don't wanna see me anymore?" Sam lifted her chin defiantly.

"Yeah. That's it." She picked up the tire iron. "Now get outta my junkyard." Jim swore under his breath, then looked at her again.

"You know, Dallas might'a done your family wrong. But I never did." He turned his back on her and started back the way he'd come.

Samantha's shoulders slumped together when she lost sight of him. He'd been one of the first boys she'd ever met that seemed to take a genuine interest in her. Not, he'd been _the_ first. Not many boys wanted a greaser for a girlfriend, and the ones that did usually had less-than-noble intentions. Jim had been real. She'd really liked him. But he was Dally's boy. What if he wasn't being honest? He'd lied about Dallas, so he could have lied about anything. About _everything_. Where he was from, about his mother, and about…liking her. What if he'd been using her? What if Dallas was just trying to use Jim to get to her parents…through her? Angela still hated Dallas, but Sam knew her mother wished she'd gotten to be more than a has been. And sometimes Sam wondered whether her mother would have loved her more is she'd been Dally's daughter, instead of her own father. Dallas was bad news for her family. Her uncles, Timothy and Curly, would hear about this little fiasco as soon as they got back from Vegas.

Rubbing her wrist across her eyes furiously, Sam headed back to the shack she called home. She didn't want to think about things any more. Not about her heritage, Dallas, and certainly not Jim. _My ex-boyfriend_. She reminded herself, wincing. _He's no part of me any more_.

In a different part of the Terrin empire, a young man sat in a pub, staring down into his mug with an unreadable expression on his face. His newsboy cap pulled low, and the collar of his jacket pulled up, he surveyed the scene before him. Aliens of all races filled the small one-room building. Some sat at the bar, focused on getting a shotty-at-best meal down before they were missed at their graveyard-shift positions. Others, spacers mostly, were gathering together in large groups, filling the air with their drunken singing and swearing. The barmaid, a Vixen with pale blond fur and red markings, was talking to a rather bulky figure in a tricorn hat and trench coat. The boy eyed her, aware of the rather impressive knife tucked into the sash at her waist. She was young, yet she knew enough to arm herself in a place like this. He reached into the folds of his coat with one hand and his fingertips brushed the hilt of his own knife, reassuring himself of it's presence. He closed his eyes for a moment, and turned back to his mug.

The bulky figure stumbled back to the boy's table, almost collapsing when it tripped on the leg of a misplaced chair. Swearing up a storm, the large spacer took a seat across from the boy. Though his hat shaded his features, the boy smiled as he caught a glimpse of a yellow beam protruding from where the man's right eye was thought to be located.

"A tough 'un, ain't she?" the boy asked. With a sigh, the cyborg nodded.

"Aye, that she be. But put enough gold in 'er paw, an' 'er lips be a bit loose." His young companion looked up, interested.

"What did you find?" The man nodded towards the bar. The boy turned to see the Vixen run one long, slender finger down her muzzle, stopping at her small black nose, a well known sign indicating an alliance. The man touched the brim of his hat.

"They be usin' a series of clippers registered under the name Martin Ollis. The main vessel be the _Wisteria_, but they've another galleon, one they ain't been too keen on showin' off."

"Did you get a name?"

"Aye, the _Tigress_. Pirates they be, and good 'uns at that." His accomplice nodded towards the door as two well-seasoned spacers walked in, eyeing everyone in the place.

"We've got company." he observed as the Vixen looked him right in the eye.

"Aye, so we do." His uncle mumbled under his breath. "Ready y'self, Riyo. No mistakes." Riyo gripped his blade in his fist, feeling the cold metal against his skin.

"There never are." The spacers had spotted them. One drew a pistol, and took aim.

"Are you gonna make this easy, Silver?" he asked, smiling at the cyborg ursid. "Or are we gonna have to do this the ha-" The Vixen leapt from behind the counter, smashing a bottle over his head. His partner drew a knife, but before he could use it, Riyo's blade came spinning through the air. His aim was true, and it pinned the man in the wrist, stunning him long enough for the Vixen to kick out viciously with her footpaws and sending him crashing backward into a case of ale. By the time he'd gotten up, the intended targets of their mission had fled, the boy taking his prized knife with him.

Riyo had been with his uncle for nearly three months. His mother had been getting tired of his ceaseless shenanigans, and it only seemed fair that she ship him off to live with the troublemaker of the family, her least favorite brother John. Not that Riyo minded. John was his favorite relative, and the feeling was mutual. All of Riyo's siblings were involved in the Navy and Terrin Armada and such. Riyo was smarter than that. He was _better_ than that. At age seventeen, he knew that if there was something worth wanting in life, you had to take it. His brother and sisters could wait patiently their whole lives if they wanted, that was fine by him. But as for Riyo, he would make a name for himself one day. The plan had been to take it easy until he was twenty-three, and therefore old enough to file for a captain's license, and in the meantime learn from the best pirate in the Ethirium(to Riyo's knowledge), Long John Silver. And a fine plan it had been, since Uncle John had been taking it easy himself for the past year and a half, living off a small fortune he'd made in the duration of his last voyage.

That was before the trouble had started, though. Before they'd become the object of a very violent, almost obsessive hunt. Riyo pulled the cap off of his head, letting the light breeze ruffle his red hair. His eyes, as dark as obsidian, took in Angara hungrily. They were hunted, for now. They were the prey. But soon the tables would turn. He vowed to make the Viper pay for this misdeed. Other than the fact that their adversary tended to use the names of animals quite a lot, they knew next to nothing about him. He'd shown up at their tavern one day, and chaos had ensued. Riyo and John had barely escaped with their lives, and the trouble hadn't ended there. For several months now, Riyo and his uncle had been on the run, and had dodged the pirate and his blood-lusting crew three times now. Their attempts were getting braver. Soon Riyo doubted their tiny vessel would be enough to keep them going.

He looked over at his uncle, who stood over a small stove in their run-down room, whistling an old spacer's tune as he worked at that night's dinner. Uncle John was getting slower in his old age, and Riyo knew that worried him. He'd been at ease for so long his body wasn't used to the fast-paced life of a pirate anymore. He only hoped it wouldn't come down to just him being on the run.

"What does he even want from you anyway?" Riyo asked, suddenly aware that he hadn't a clue. Uncle John paused.

"I don' rightly know. Ne'r 'eard of 'im before no'."

"Never?" Riyo asked, leaning against the window frame. "You mean you've never crossed paths with 'im afore now?"

"Afraid not. This 'un ain't as famous as he makes 'imself out to be. But he be dangerous, I c'n tell ye tha' much." Riyo rolled his eyes.

"Oh, ya don't say." John laughed and handed his nephew a bowl of soup.

"Eat up, Riyo. We'll be shippin' out on the morrow, laddo. Best ye get a good night's sleep." Riyo nodded, and lifted the bowl to his lips.

"Aye, captain."

The two spacer bandits stood before their captain, one holding a bag of ice to his head, the other holding a bloodied rag to his wrist.

"So they got away." their employer said, glaring at them. "Once again, they've managed to elude my best bounty hunters."

"S-sorry, cap'im, we-"

"You failed!" he shouted suddenly, jumping to his feet. "That cyborg is vital if we're to attain our goal, and here you are, giving him enough of a heads-up so that he can scurry off to another part of this god-forsaken galaxy! And you're sorry?" The two spacers before him were trembling. They knew his reputation, and they feared his wrath more so than death. His first mate was present, however, and stood up in their defense.

"They had an informant, Captain." he said slowly, his crocodile-like features twisting into a mirthless smile. "A Vixen, and a fighter at that. It was three to one, and she snuck up behind them. They were taken by surprise." The captain looked at him scornfully, then dismissed the spacers with a wave of his hand. They all but tripped over each other getting out the door.

"That's still no excuse as to why they haven't been captured yet." Viper muttered crossly.

"Since becoming a cyborg, it would seem as though Silver has become more cautious." Viper dropped back into his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"We're running out of time."

"Might I make a suggestion?" the Reptilian asked. The captain nodded. "What we need is someone that's worked with him personally. Someone that knows how his mind works." Captain Viper came to attention.

"That's not a bad idea. But where would we find anyone like that?"

"I can have relatives of mine put the word out. T'will cost us a pretty penny, but in the long run-"

"It's worth it. We need that cyborg _now." Viper said, pounding a fist on his desk to further his point. "When's the soonest you can get word to your…?"_

"_My brother. And I can do it tonight, easily. We'll have word within a fortnight." Viper nodded._

"_Alright then. See to it straight away." The first mate nodded, and left. Viper looked out his stateroom window, at Angara's luminous lights. This was but a game of cat and mouse. All he needed to was be patient, and that mouse would be his. He frowned as the thought crossed his mind._

"_A very fat mouse." he mumbled, then went back to studying the many maps spread out before him._

_A/N: I couldn't resist the fat joke…_

_Review! Please! I'll be away for at least a week, and I won't be able to write, so I'm relying on the reviews of the readers to keep me going when I return. Really, even if you want to point out a typo, review._

_-S_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know this has taken me FOREVER to get done, but here it is :) I recently became sidetracked with another fanfiction, and the feedback on that one had me tied up for a bit, plus this may be the busiest summer I've had in my life.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It really helps!

I owe a huge thanks to xxssnightingalexx, who's been very encouraging to this story and to my artwork :) I also have dirtISkrazy to thank as well, who has been helping me greatly with this story. I am blessed to have them :)

-SE

Chapter 6

"You ain't ever been to a rumble, have you?" Jason asked. Jim shook his head.

"Never heard of one either. What is it?"

"A fight. A big one." Jace sighed. "Greasers against Socs. Haven't been one of those since…well, you know." Jim nodded.

"Figure they'll play fair?"

"I thought our folks were _past_ this stuff." Gauge muttered. "I mean, really? This is our time now, not theirs. And yet our dads _insist_ on showing up."

"You wanna gang up on, like, fifteen Socs? Our little group?" Mick interjected, giving him a skeptical look. "There's only, what, five of us? The girls won't fight." Jim mentally winced. He could think of one girl that would jump at the chance to fight. He hadn't seen Sam since their breakup. Without her, he'd had little reason to stay out of school, and therefore he'd become more of a regular face there. The boys were sitting at a small, round table near the cafeteria exit, sitting with their backs to the wall to prevent the event of any sneak attacks by the Socs that dominated the campus. There had been rumors circulating that a rumble was being called for, but as far as they knew, it was only a rumor. Still, if one of their parents had called for a rumble, their dads would all be present. They knew that for sure.

"Hey, I've got a question." Rontamel spoke up. "If you keep having nightmares about your teeth falling out, is that a psychiatrist thing or a dentist thing?"

"I think that's an idiot thing." Mick mumbled, and Ronto threw him a look.

"Shut up."

"Your subconscious mind is probably trying to warn you that you grind your teeth at night when you're asleep." Jace said. Everyone else stared at him. He shrugged. "I got stuck with psychology for third period."

"Alright, Dr. Cade," Rontamel retorted, "Is your dad letting you come to my place next month or what?"

"Or what. My parents have been planning a trip to see my grandparents for the past month, and we start packing when I get home that day. Might be able to pull a few strings though."

"Mickey?"

"I'm in."

"Gauge?"

"Unless I get plans between now and then, I'll be there."

"Jim?"

"Huh?" Jim looked up from his tray. "What?"

"Dude." Mickey looked annoyed. "What is _up_ with you? It's like you got your head in the clouds or something. Wake _up_ man." Jim glared at him.

"I'm fine." He turned to Ronto. "What are you talking about?"

"It's Ray's birthday next month." he said in a hushed voice. "We're getting the gang together to surprise her. You in?" Jim nodded.

"Sure."

"Don't you have to ask your dad?" Jim started to say no, then paused.

"Uh...I dunno. Maybe. But he'll probably let me."

"Hey, I heard Dally got a job at a ranch a couple miles out of town." Jace said. "Working with horses. Is that true?" Jim nodded.

"Yeah, he's helping out with Buck's horses. He's always coming home and talking about them. There's a mare that's about to have a foal soon."

"A what?" Gauge looked confused.

"A baby horse bro."

"I thought they were called ponies."

"Nah, those are the midget horses."

"Hey, speaking of midgets, you know that senior that barely passes four feet? Well yesterday..." Jim slowly let his attention fade away again. Dallas had been gone a lot lately, but the guy in charge of the stables had really liked him. He had a full-time job now. And sometimes he had to stay late, if it was too cold and the horses needed blankets, or if they needed to be fed and the people normally in charge of that were gone for the night. Which often meant that Jim was asleep by the time his dad got home. _Will he be late again tonight?_ Jim wondered. He pushed the mushy, gray-green broccoli around his tray. It was Tuesday, and normally he was home on time on Tuesdays. He'd been meaning to talk to him. About Sam. He hadn't mentioned her to anyone, but their breakup hurt. A lot. There wasn't a day he woke up without thinking of her, not a moment went by that he didn't wonder what she was doing, and every afternoon, he had to fight against how badly he wanted to run to her house and try to make up with her. He missed her, badly.

"Right, Jim?" Gauge laughed, and Jim looked up.

"Huh?" All the guys seemed to roll their eyes or groan. Jim felt his face flush. "Whatever. I'm outta here." He stood up before anyone could say another word. He didn't want to be with them right now, anyway. After he'd dumped his tray, he went to the gym. It was nice outside, but that meant the Socs would be outside. Jim had learned his lesson about going off on his own, but he decided he was in the clear. The gym, as it happened, was empty.

Jim tossed his jacket on the bleachers and picked up a basketball. He bounced it, and listened to the hollow sound it made on the hardwood floor. _Thump, thump, thump, thump_. He opened his eyes and threw it at the net. It went in. He retrieved the ball, and went back to his position.

"Hey man." A voice said, and he turned to see Ronto. He nodded in acknowledgement, then focused on the ball. Ronto leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. His normally cheerful grin was replaced by a solemn, serious line. "What's on your mind?" Jim shot for the net again.

"Nothing."

"Something." Ronto insisted. "Dude, it's written all over your face. Something's up." Jim paused, then sighed.

"Ronto...I screwed up. Big time. And not with my dad, but..." he sighed again, this time irritably. Ronto waited patiently for his friend to go on. "My girlfriend broke up with me." Ronto looked concerned.

"Oh, man. I...I'm sorry. I had no idea." Jim ran his hands through his hair. "She from Mon...where you came from?" Nobody could ever remember how to pronounce the name of Jim's home planet.

"Mon_tressor_." Jim corrected lightly. "And no. Actually...she's from around here."

"You got a girl, and you never _told_ me?" Rontamel faked an insulted look. "Well! You think you know a guy!" Jim could help but chuckle.

"I know, I know. I didn't tell anyone, so you're not the only one."

"Not even your dad?"

"_Especially_ not my dad." He sat down on the bleachers, and Ronto sat next to him.

"Okay...why not?" Jim rested his head in his hands.

"She's Tim Shepherd's niece." Ronto's eyes widened, and he looked away from Jim. He let out a low whistle.

"...wow. She's...wow."

"I _know_."

"How did you two even get together? She hates your dad." Jim winced. He waited a moment, then confessed the whole story to Rontamel, who sat there and listened through the whole thing. "I was going to tell her about my dad, but...he just showed up. And if I hadn't done something, she'd have maimed him. So I had to tell her, and when I did...she said she didn't want to see me anymore." Ronto winced.

"I'm sorry. That's...cold. What, just because your dad messed with her family, she's gonna take it out on you?"

"I don't think that's all of it. I mean, she really _does_ hate my dad. Like...really, really bad. But it's also because I didn't tell her sooner."

"Yeah, girls are weird like that. Even when it's stuff that shouldn't matter to them, like what you did on the weekend or why you were running late."

"Sam isn't like that though. She never seemed to really _care_ that I was late. And she was so...so much fun to be around. My last girlfriend wasn't like that. She was kind of controlling."

"How so?" Jim thought back to the solar-surfing, heavy-metal-loving, tattooed, pierced Akori. She was part Hispanic and part Indian, and she was a rose with many a thorn. Eventually, her extremities had driven a wedge between them, and they'd broken up.

"We broke up when she asked me to get her name tattooed on my arm." They both laughed at the idea.

"Well...so then you miss her, huh?" Ronto asked, turning the basketball over in his hands. Jim sighed again, and nodded.

"I want to go see her, try to talk to her. But...I don't know."

"It doesn't sound like she really wanted to break up with you, either. I can...maybe go with you, if you want. Moral support." Jim thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Thanks, Ronto. That'd help."

"When you wanna go over?"

"...today?" Jim asked quietly. "After school?" Ronto grinned.

"Alright, Romeo. Today, after school." The bell rang, and they stood up.

"Sorry I kinda blew up at you guys at lunch." Jim muttered. "That girl...she's playing games with my head." His friend shrugged it off.

"We've all been there before. The guys'll forget about it before the day is done." However, Jim wasn't listening. He was thinking about what he was going to say to Samantha. What could he possibly say to change her mind? What if they were wrong, and she really didn't want him anymore?

o~O~o

"Hey, Dallas!" Dallas looked up from cleaning out one of the stalls. It wasn't one of his favorite chores to do, but not one that he hated, either. It had to be done.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning on his rake. Mat, one of the supervisors at the stables, looked at Dally's handiwork.

"You've been doing great these past few weeks." he commented. "I'll admit, when I heard you were gonna be working here..."

"Yeah?" Dally raised one eyebrow in mock-challenge. Mat shrugged.

"You sure surprised me. Anyway, a couple of the boys from the road crew are going out for drinks later, they suggested I invite you. You up for it?" Dallas shook his head.

"I've got to get home tonight." Mat shrugged again.

"Alright. Maybe some other time then. Good day to ya." He walked away, and Dallas sighed under his breath. Mat's praise meant a lot more to him than he'd ever admit. In truth, it was the first _real_ job he'd ever had, and he'd wanted to do a good job of it. Apparently, he had. And even though getting a drink after work was tempting- _very_ tempting- he wanted to be home early that night. He hadn't had a real conversation with Jim in weeks. Dallas considered himself lucky of he got the occasional 'morning, I'm late, see you later'. He still hadn't really _talked_ to Jim. And he'd been putting it off long enough.

His thoughts were interrupted as Midnight, the pregnant mare, began pacing her stall and snorting loudly. Dallas put down his rake and went into her stall. He felt her growing stomach as he'd been taught, while praying that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Hey girl...shhh, it's alrig-" Her water broke. "Mat!"

o~O~o

Jim swallowed nervously as they neared the junkyard. Ronto patted him on the shoulder.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine. Okay?"

"Sure." Jim muttered as they trudged along the sidewalk. As soon as school had let out, Ronto had been urging him to go, but Jim had insisted on waiting. He'd been so nervous, and it would be a lie to say he'd calmed down since. "Sure it will."

Actually, Ronto was far less confidant than he appeared to be. True, he had wanted to come with Jim to support his friend, but there was something else. He'd known Samantha since they were kids. She was always getting into trouble back then. She'd started tagging when she was nine. Back then, she'd been such an ugly duckling. He'd stopped seeing her after awhile, but after they'd become teenagers, he'd noticed her in town several times. Not that he ever talked to her. She was way out of his league. Besides, his dad didn't want him to hang around her. And up until now, he'd never had a reason to. But if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't just tagging along for Jim's sake. He wanted to see her again, see if she was still the rough-and-tumble tomboy he'd known. Plus she was hot. Guilt nipped at his heels as they walked along the sidewalk, but he pushed the feeling away. _I'm not gonna hit on her or anything_. _Just maybe say hi. Probably not even that._ It didn't make the feeling go away.

Jim pulled at his rattail nervously when they reached the gate. He couldn't exactly barge right in like he used to, at least not while expecting a warm welcome.

"Well?" Ronto asked, leaning against the fence. "We gonna stand here all night, or are you gonna call her out, Romeo?" Jim looked at the gate, then down at his shoes.

"I don't know." he sighed. "She won't hear us from out here, and we can't go in. How are we going to get her attention?" A sly smile lit up Rontamel's face, reminding Jim of Sodapop. "Ronto-" Jim was cut off suddenly as Ronto began banging his fists nosily against the sheet metal.

"Hey! Shepherd! We needa talk to ya!" Jim lunged for him, with the intent to still his arm, but Ronto dogged him.

"Ronto, stop that, you'll wake up the whole neighborhood!" Jim snapped. He felt like an idiot; after all, nothing screamed desperate like...desperate screaming.

"What neighborhood?" Ronto asked sarcastically in a normal tone of voice. "It's a _junkyard_. Hey Shepherd, open uuuuup!"

"Curtis, store it!" Jim snapped again, but Ronto went right on happily ignoring him until a rather large rock came flying over the gate. It bounced off Jim's shoulder, and he let out a yelp.

"Who's out there and what do you want?" demanded a very irate voice from the other side. Sam. Jim winced, and coughed to clear his throat.

"Hey Sam." he said softly. "It's just me."

"Grease, I know that wasn't you hollerin' your head off." she shot back. "Which one of your lackeys you drag with you?"

"Actually, I dragged him- ow!" Ronto rubbed at his shoulder where Jim's fist had made contact.

"Look, I really need to talk to you." Jim continued. "I know I lied to you, Sam, and I'm sorry." There was a pause. Then,

"Well, you should be. Apology not accepted."

"Well, can you blame me?" Jim snapped, then sighed. "I didn't know you had a problem with Dallas when I first met you, alright? How could I? I'd just gotten here. And after I found out, I didn't want to tell you because..."

"Because what?" she growled. Jim looked up at the stars, trying to think of a good way to word what he was going to say.

"Because I...part of me knew you'd leave. Or, break up with me. I really like you, Sam. You're so different from anyone else I know." A thick silence hung in the air. Jim kicked absentmindedly at the rock. "And I miss you." The silence stretched on for several awkward moments, and Jim started to think she'd just walked away and left them standing there, until he heard her groan.

"Jim, if you could keep a secret like that from me, what _else_ could you lie about?"

"But I didn't-"

"I'm not saying you _did_. I'm saying you _could_." Her voice softened a bit. "I can't be in that sort of relationship. You can't..._care_ about someone if you don't trust them. How can you?" Jim closed his eyes, ready to admit defeat. He'd tried, but she was right. If they couldn't trust each other, it wouldn't work out. Still, he had to give it one last shot.

"You remember that day we met?" he asked quietly. "I was so turned around, I didn't know where I was. Then the next thing I know, you just literally fell out of nowhere. I don't know why, but I followed you. And I helped you. And then you returned the favor. We make a good team, Sam. And I know what I did was wrong, but I didn't want to risk losing you. And you know we don't have to give it all up just because of who we're related to or who we hang out with or any of that. Can't we try again?" She didn't answer. It seemed like an eternity, when in reality it couldn't have been more than five minutes. Jim winced, accepting her silence as a 'no'. Ronto gave him a sympathetic smile, and they turned away from the gate. They hadn't made it as far as the next street lamp when the gate creaked open. Sam stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Jim looked her in the eye, hoping, wishing for a second chance. She looked at him cautiously, as if weighing out her decision. Then she nodded. Jim ran to her and swept her up in his arms, and she didn't reject as he spun her in the air.

"I've missed you too, spacer boy." she chuckled into his ear. She hugged him back, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Rontamel kept his calm, but in truth he was blown away. Samantha Shepherd was the hottest girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Even now, in the light of dusk, she was breathtaking. She stood there, embracing his best friend, with her long ebony hair flowing around her and her green eyes flashing, and he was transfixed. Even in a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, barefoot, there was no question about it. Ronto took in her perfect figure as well, and he felt a stab of something he wasn't comfortable with, something that made him angry. Jealousy. With a shock, he turned away from the happy couple. Sam was Jim's girl. They'd _just_ gotten back together, right before his eyes, and he was seriously _jealous_ of Jim, instead of being happy for him. _No. No way._ he thought, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. _Jim's my best friend. Best friends don't do that_. He glanced back at them and rolled his eyes.

"I hate to break up the reunion, but my mom's not gonna be too happy if I'm late for dinner." he said. Jim looked up at him and nodded, his eyes shining once again. Another pang of guilt hit the Curtis boy, unbeknownst to Jim.

"Alright, I'm coming." He turned back to Sam. "Can I come get you tomorrow?" She pretended to think it over, then shrugged.

"Of course you can baby." she purred into his ear, and he kissed her.

"Okay. See you then." he said, grinning from ear to ear. He didn't move to follow Ronto until she'd gone back inside. He punched the air and let out a cheer before darting down the street. Ronto chased after him, blushing with temper.

"Geeze, could you be a little louder? You're gonna wake up the entire neighborhood." Jim laughed, not realizing Ronto's foul mood. In his mind, Ronto was still looking at Sam. Listening to her voice, watching her move.

It wasn't until he was trying to get to sleep that night that he realized she was watching him, too, with the same hungry look in her emerald eyes.

o~O~o

Dallas couldn't recall ever being so tired in his life. He pulled into the driveway, and tried to get out of his car before he'd taken his seatbelt off. He slapped a palm over his eyes and groaned. He had the early shift tomorrow, too. A smile tugged at his lips when he thought of checking on the new colt Midnight had given birth to. He was almost completely black, like his mother, but with a white star on his nose like his father. They'd named him Comet, the other guys at the stable. For the most part, Dallas had hung back after the delivery. Comet was a perfectly healthy foal, which was what they'd been hoping for, even though he was several weeks early. He'd jumped up almost as soon as he'd been born. Mat said that was a sign of a good race horse.

Dallas finally pulled himself out of the car and headed inside. Jim was laying on the couch with a book in his lap and a notebook in his hands. He glanced up when Dallas shut the front door.

"Uh...hey Dally." he said awkwardly. Dallas smiled.

"Hey kid." Jim raised one eyebrow.

"Uh...what...?" Dallas glanced down at his clothes and shook his head.

"You don't want to know."

"Oh?"

"One of the mares gave birth today." Jim wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Ew." Dallas laughed, and headed off to take a shower. Jim rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. He hadn't seen his dad in awhile. Maybe they would have chance to spend some time together tonight. He'd been thinking about telling him about Sam, but he'd changed his mind. He'd just gotten her back. He could wait awhile before telling Dallas.

"So you got homework?" His father asked as he toweled the water out of his hair sometime later. Jim shook his head.

"I was just looking at something. In English we're reading King Arthur, and I was thinking about how there's still some doubt about whether or not he existed. I got a book at the school library today to check it out." Dallas nodded, not being able to follow any of it.

"Isn't that just a fairytale?" he asked. Jim shrugged.

"Maybe. Probably. But you never know." Dallas rolled his eyes.

"You really haven't changed much, Jim." he said and sat down on the other end of the couch. "When you were little, you used to _insist_ that this one book was real. You just couldn't let that argument go." A sly grin spread across Jim's face.

"Oh yeah? What book?" Dallas closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"Some pirate book. It was one of those holograph ones, some story book. Delbert gave it to you." He opened his eyes when Jim giggled. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Jim shook his head. "So the foal?"

"Oh, right. Well, Midnight went into labor a couple weeks early, but he's alright. It's a colt. The guys named him Comet, 'cause he's got this star on his face. You should come by and see him sometime." Jim perked up.

"Huh? You mean go with you?" Dally nodded.

"I don't see why not. You might even like it." Jim nodded.

"Yeah...ok." Dallas yawned and stretched his arms.

"I'm beat. And you've got school tomorrow." Jim shrugged and picked up his books.

"Alright, I'm going." Dallas was halfway to his room when Jim paused. "Uh...night, Dal." Dallas nodded at him.

"Goodnight, k-...Jim."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next morning started off badly for Dallas and progressively got worse. He left work early that day, since he had to meet with a social worker around noon. A certain family member had recently dug up Dallas' police record and it was causing a few doubts with Social Services. Hopefully he could disprove them. He didn't want them taking Jim away from him. They weren't exactly bonding- Jim still only ever addressed him by his name- but they were making progress. And lately Dallas had been wondering how Sarah had been able to manage Jim for the past eight years. He could use her help right now, so much. He was really missing her.

To his surprise, when he got to the house and walked through the front door, he nearly collided with Jim, who apparently was just leaving. Startled, the teen looked up at his father, his mouth opening then closing without a word. Dallas stared at him, equally surprised. Then his expression went from puzzled to rigid. He came inside and shut the door behind him. Jim swallowed nervously.

"What are you doing home?" his dad asked in a monotone voice.

"Uh…I, uh…"

"Today's a school day. Why aren't you in school?"

"I, uh…well, I _was _at school…" Dallas looked at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I was just…aw, come on, Dallas!" Jim finally snapped. "Like you never skipped school before?"

"Of course I did. But _my _dad didn't care. _Yours_, on the other hand, is gonna kill you!"

"Oh, whatever." Jim muttered, but winced when he saw the look on Dallas' face.

"What's the matter with you? I mean it, what's your problem?" Jim groaned.

"_Dallas_-"

"Don't start whining, get in the car!" Dallas snapped. Jim glared at him.

"Dallas, I'm not going back today."

"Yeah, yeah." Dallas grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him outside. "I said get in the car!" Jim climbed in, swearing under his breath. Dallas was almost never home during the day, which was why he'd thought that it would be okay to be there. He'd needed to come home to get something- his solar-surfer. Why had Dallas come home early? He waited in the car for Dallas to come outside. When he did, Jim noticed he was carrying a vanilla-colored file. He frowned, vaguely wondering about it. He didn't think about it long, however, because when Dallas got in the car, he immediately turned on Jim. "What the heck do you think you're doing? Huh?" Jim felt his face redden.

"Nothing." he spat as Dallas tore out of the driveway.

"No, I mean it, what's your damage-"

"My _damage_?" Jim shot back. "You barely even notice I'm alive, and now all of a sudden you care about the _grades_ I make?!" Dallas shot him a heated look, then turned his attention back to the road.

"Don't you yell at-"

"Why not? You're yelling at me! So I skip school, so what? Why does it matter?!"

"Did it ever occur to you that they'd hold you back?" Dally snapped back. Jim set his jaw. In truth, it had. And he'd considered what would happen if he was stuck in the tenth grade until he turned eighteen. But he'd already decided to run, so what did it matter?

"So what if they do? Soda dropped out of high school when he was seventeen, and he's doing okay!"

"Soda works at a _gas station_. Do you honestly want that kind of life?"

"What does it matter to you what I want?" Dallas pointed at him.

"Look, when you turn eighteen, you can run away and join the _circus_ for all I care! But you are _not _going to just let your grades slip, not in my house! Do you understand me?"

"Why the heck do you care?!" Jim shot back. "All you care about is yourself! That's all you've ever cared about!"

"You shut your mouth!"

"I'll drop out. Like Soda." Dally's eyes widened.

"No. No, you _won't_." He said, his eyes as cold as ice. _Soda's wrong,_ Jim realized. _I've got his eyes_. "From now on, you're gonna stay in school, and I'll make sure of it. You show your face around town, and I'll know about it. And if you _ever _skip again, I'm gonna beat the tar outta you!" Jim threw him a hateful glare.

"Can't you just leave me alone? You've had no problem with it for the past eight years!" Dallas winced.

"Your mom was still around to take care of her kid." Dallas pointed out icily, barely stopping at a light in time. Jim narrowed his eyes.

"Just in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a little kid anymore. Two more years, and I'm done with you, with that house, with this town, all of it!" Dally glared at him.

"You shut your mouth, or you'll be outta here before that." he spat as he pulled up in front of the school

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I _want _to get out before that?" Even as the words formed, he regretted it. He'd never said anything like it to his mom. He never imagined he would say it to his dad. And as soon as the words left his mouth, Dallas changed. He lost the sharp, dangerous look that came over him when he was mad. The corners of his mouth lowered slightly. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, they held a disheartened light. He turned his head as if he were looking at something out the window, and said in a flat, emotionless voice,

"Get back to class." Jim practically leapt out of the car, but before he'd shut the door, Dallas added, "You're grounded. I'll pick you up later." Jim turned around to argue, but he was stopped as Dallas pulled his door shut. His temper flaring, Jim almost felt mad enough to stamp his foot. He felt ridiculous, like he'd just thrown a tantrum. But he was also upset because Dallas had just messed up his plans with Sam. Again. With an agitated growl, he turned back to the high school and slipped inside. He waited there until Dallas' car sped out of the parking lot. He was about to open the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and winced when he saw the principal, Mr. Sikes, glaring down at him.

"Ahem. Mister Winston, I'm sure your teacher for this period is aware of your absence." he said sternly. Jim nodded and slunk off in the direction of his class, which just happened to be English. Apparently, one of the Socs had gotten into it with a greaser boy in the class, as the other students were grouped around them. The teacher, Mr. Ward, was trying to separate them, with little success. Jim slipped in silently and took his seat next to Rontamel. Ronto shook his head with a grin.

"Thought you left?" he snickered. Jim shrugged, not really in the mood to talk. Ronto's smile disappeared. He could sense something was wrong, and immediately he thought of Sam. "What happened?" Jim rolled his eyes.

"My dad caught me leaving the house." he muttered. Rontamel gave him a puzzled look.

"And he made you come back?"

"He drove me over here." Jim said, his contempt for his father plain on his face. "And apparently I'm grounded, so my weekend is off to a _wonderful_ start." Ronto shook his head, amazed.

"Wow. I always thought...I mean, Dallas...wow." Jim shrugged.

"That's what everyone seems to think. That just because he's a hood, he'll just let me get away with anything." He blew his bangs out of his eyes. "I wish."

"Well, you gotta admit, going home was a stupid move." Jim let his head hit the desk in front of him with a thud.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." he muttered, then groaned. "Sam's expecting me to drop by in less than twenty minutes, and not only can I not go _now_, I can't even check in with her later and explain what happened." Ronto patted his shoulder mock-sympathetically.

"This too shall pass." Jim looked up at him, thinking.

"Well..._I_ can't go. But maybe...you...?" Ronto shook his head.

"No."

"But-"

"Forget it."

"Come on, man!" Jim pleaded. "It wouldn't even take that long. All you'd have to do is tell her what happened." Deep down, Ronto wanted to go to clear Jim's name and help him out. Not so deep down, he wanted to go anyway. He wanted an excuse to see Sam, and this was as good as any. But again he shook his head.

"That's not my business. That's between you and her."

"Aw, come on!" Jim snapped. "I'd do the same for you!"

"Yeah, but _I_ didn't _ask_." Jim glared at him, and then his accusing look turned to one of puzzlement.

"Why are you getting so weird?" Ronto frowned.

"What are you-"

"Alright, that's _it_!" Mr. Ward finally shouted, shoving the arguing greaser and Soc towards the door with an irritated growl. "Principal's office! Now!" After they left the classroom, Jim kicked his feet up on the desk.

"Seriously, man. What's up with you? Yesterday you were all for helping me sort things out with Sam. Now it's like you're afraid to be around her." Ronto sat on the floor, his back pressed against his desk. _If you only knew_. he thought, then shook his head.

"I just don't want to get involved with you guys. I'm not a marriage counselor." he added with a grin. Jim rolled his eyes and lightly kicked his shoulder, grinning in spite of himself.

"Shut up. I'm serious. All I'm asking you to do is just tell her I'm on lockdown for a few days."

"You think your dad'll let you out soon?"

"Please. When I was stuck at home, I couldn't tell who was more miserable, me or him. Besides, he works every day except Sunday, and it's not like he can chain me to the wall. I'll get out whether or not he lets me." Ronto scoffed at the idea.

"If I double-crossed _my dad_ like that I'd be road kill." Jim shrugged.

"Your dad's too cool to blow up on you like Dally does me. He hit me once." Ronto glanced up at him, surprised.

"No."

"Yeah." Jim said wearily, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Slapped me. And shoved me. Then told me to get lost, so I did." Rontamel was quiet for a minute, then face-palmed.

"You sneaky little-"

"Yeah?" Jim chuckled.

"I have no pity for you. It won't work!" Rontamel insisted, trying not to laugh. Jim nudged his ribs with the toe of his sneaker.

"Yes it will. It will. It _will_!"

"Cut it out!" Jim kept it up until Ronto shoved his leg away, causing Jim to topple out of his chair. They sat there snickering, ignoring the icy stares of their classmates. Ronto shook his head. "Alright, alright. I'll do it." Jim punched the air.

"Nice. Thanks man, I owe you one." Ronto shrugged, pretending like he wasn't excited. That his heart wasn't racing. That he was bored with the subject.

"Yeah, no joke.

o~O~o

Dallas glanced nervously at his attorney's face as he scanned the papers.

"Well...legally, you're his rightful guardian. But definitely not his only option." Dallas let his gaze travel to the window of the small office, as if in a daze. Out of everything that could have happened, out of all the people to throw a wrench in the works, it just _had _to be Trisha. He waited patiently as the man in front of him poured over the papers he'd brought, his criminal record, and several other documents. For the longest time, he said nothing. And when he looked up from them, his expression was not one of hope.

"Well?"

"It doesn't look promising." the other man sighed.

"So that's it? She just waltzes in here and demands that I give him to her, and she can do that?"

"Well, it's not really that simple. You see, she'd have to have proof that you're not capable of providing for him, or that you're neglecting him in some way." He glanced over the top of the papers. "You're not having any..._problems_, are you?" Dallas shook his head a little too vigorously.

"No, we're not. We're fine. And she needs to get her nose out of our lives."

"Mr. Winston, she's got as much potential as a guardian as you do. If- and I do mean _if_- you fail to raise your son properly, then his aunt has a very good chance of taking him away from you through the court system. Normally, a relative that wants to take a child from his or her parents has to go through quite a bit of trouble, but in your case...well, your criminal record speaks for itself. It's a miracle the court hasn't taken a closer look at your case this far." Dallas looked back at his attorney. David had been working with Dallas for years, helping him avoid hard jail time for the crimes he'd been accused of, but he'd never seen Dallas so worked up. It startled him.

"What should I do? I've got a job, the kid's in school, what else can I do?" The attorney, David Shwelp, readjusted his glasses and examined the hospital bill on his desk.

"It looks like Jim spent some time in the hospital. What happened?"

"He got jumped by a couple Soc's." Dallas muttered tensely.

"Friends of yours?" This question received an icy glare by way of answer. "Right. Well, that's one thing you definitely want to avoid. Child endangerment. And if there's any possible way you could have had anything to do with those Socs, you could be tried for child abuse." Dallas winced.

"I'd never do something like that. He's my _son_."

"And I realize that. But this woman...Trisha? She seems to have all her bases covered. And you did leave Jim and his mother when he was just a child. The court will _not_ take kindly to that." Dallas clenched his fists.

"They didn't leave me any choice!" he all but shouted in David's face. "What was I supposed to do? Huh? Tell me that!" David held up his hands in defense.

"I'm not saying you could have stayed. I'm trying to help you, Dallas." The greaser drew in a steady breath to calm himself. He turned back to the window.

"What do I do now?"

"You need to take small steps. This area isn't an ideal place for kids his age. The gang activity has increased dramatically over the years, and even if he manages not to get involved, I'm suspecting those Socs meant business for some reason."

"So you're saying I have to move?"

"I'm saying it's a good idea. You don't have to, though. But you definitely need to keep a close eye on him, make sure they don't come back for round two or something of that nature. How is he doing in school?" David asked, and Dallas laughed mirthlessly.

"Could be better. Could be worse."

"Does he have a high number of absences?" Dallas was about to say 'no', but stopped. He'd just caught Jim skipping. Who knew how many times he'd done it before?

"I-I don't know." David raised and eyebrow, but let it go.

"You mentioned that you have a steady job. That's good. Now, do you own a house in this area?"

"No, I'm renting."

"I see. What sort of condition is this house in?" Dallas pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Poor."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Okay...it's Merril's place." David asked no more questions. Instead, he straightened the papers up and put them back in the folder, then handed them to Dallas.

"You may want to look into fixing the place up a bit. Social Services contacted me, they'd like to send a representative out to have a look. Nothing serious, but you definitely want to clean up. They're very..._precise_." Dallas nodded.

"Will do."

"And one more thing. Mr. Winston, I know you're not typically a religious man, but...it wouldn't hurt to attend a Sunday service once in awhile." Dallas nodded mutely. He hadn't been to church since he was seven years old. And there happened to be a very good reason.

o~O~o

When Dallas got home, he was surprised to find Jim at the house. He stared at his son before realizing what time it was.

"You get a ride home?"

"I walked." Jim deadpanned, not glancing up from his homework.

"Did you come straight home?"

"Of course not, I hit the bar first, what do you think?" Jim muttered, sulking.

"Don't get mouthy with me." Jim rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "Did you walk by yourself?"

"Ronto and Gauge were with me." Dallas nodded, then sighed. He sat down on the couch next to Jim.

"Uh…I think we need to talk." Now that he finally had the time, Dallas didn't know where to start. Jim put aside his books and waited, staring at the wall in front of him. Dallas rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingertips together. "I know I…wasn't around when it mattered. My dad took off, too. I know." He looked at Jim apologetically. "I know it must've sucked. And I wasn't around a whole lot before that, and I'm sorry." Jim shrugged, his eyes dropping to his sneakers. "What you said earlier…look, your aunt Trisha called." Jim turned to Dallas.

"What?" He asked softly, "Why?"

"She's…concerned. She knew about…well, that I've done time, and she contacted a lawyer. She doesn't think you're safe here. She…wants you to live with her." Jim was silent. He remembered what he'd said when Dallas had chewed him out about skipping school, and winced. He was starting to become afraid. Where was this going?

"…yeah?" he said, hoping his father had more to say.

"Well…I'm not…I don't…" he sighed again, then looked his son in the eyes. "I messed up, alright? I really screwed things up. Your mother didn't deserve it, and neither did you. I loved both of you, and I though that things would be easier without me there. Jim, I'm your father. I love you. I don't want to abandon you again, but if you want to live with your aunt, then you can. I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do." Jim sat up[ straighter.

"No! Dad-" he stopped, paused. "…Dallas, I don't want to live with her. She hates me. And…Dally, please don't let her!" Dallas smiled sadly.

"I wish I could say you don't have to. But she's definitely got the upper hand here. I went and met with my attorney today, and he says she has a good chance at…well, taking you away."

"There's got to be something we can do."

"Well, there is. Someone from Social Services wants to come out and see the place, check things out. So we can fix this dump up a little. And you need to stay in school." Jim rolled his eyes at this.

"_Alright_, I _got _it." Dallas shook his head, laughing. Jim smiled, then became serious again. "Could she really do it?" Dallas bit his lower lip.

"It's possible." He tousled Jim's hair. "Don't worry about it kid." Jim nodded.

"…I'm sorry. About what I said. I didn't mean it." Dallas only shrugged.

"Just don't get to runnin' your mouth like that." Jim shook his head.

"I won't." He meant it. He never wanted to say something like that again.

"And yes, you're still grounded." Jim shot him a look. "Get over it."

o~O~o

Ronto shook his head as he walked up to the gate. He had mixed feelings about going to the scrap yard. On one hand, there was Jim. The gang had always put each other first when it came to girls. It was an unspoken law. It was also common sense. They'd known each other all their lives. But Jim was a recent addition. He'd grown up in another town, on another planet. But he was still part of the gang, and a good friend as well.

Then, on the other hand, there was Sam. She was a greaser, and she was hot, and she was completely off-limits. But he'd seen her checking him out. At least, he _thought_ she'd been. He hoped she'd been. He liked her. He was attracted to her. And, after all, Jim had practically begged him to come and talk to her. So he had a reason. So why did he feel guilty?

He rapped on the metal gate, and waited. Sam opened it and stepped out onto the street, effectively erasing any doubt Rontamel had had. She was, in a word, stunning. A black strapless tube top, short-shorts, sandals, and the perfect figure to pull it all off. Ronto gave her a smug smile when he noticed the surprise on her face.

"Expecting your lover boy?" Sam regained her composure.

"Yeah…I was. Let me guess, he can't make it." Ronto shook his head.

"Afraid not. His dad caught him skipping, he's grounded for awhile." Sam nodded, then leaned against the gate.

"So he sent you." Ronto nodded.

"Didn't want to leave you waiting." She studied him for a minute, tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. Her feline-like eyes sized him up. He was doing the same with her. Finally, she smiled back at him.

"Well. Thank you. I'm just so disappointed. I was _so_ looking forward to going out tonight." she said, then sighed. "I guess I'll just have to stay home." Rontamel took the bait.

"Well, you _could_. Or maybe…_we _could hang out."

"You know," she purred. "I think I'd like that."

**A/N: Okay! Chapter 7. I know I took my sweet time doing it, but here it is. *le gasp* Well, hanging out isn't **_**cheating**_**, right? *sarcastic***

**If I was offered the chance to meet my characters I'd turn it down in a heartbeat. They'd kill me if given the chance.**

**-xXSilverEyesXx**


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I know that recently this story may have been a little hard to read- when I jump from one character to the next, who are in totally different places, I add three asterisks and indent, but this website _conveniently_ erases those, thereby making it seem as though there's no transition at all. It just leaps to someone else. And I know that must either be extremely annoying or confusing, so I'm sorry about that. I'm working on that. Bear with me.

And another thing. If you don't like what you read, don't review.

_-SilverEyes_

Chapter 8

Silver ran as fast as his legs would allow, his pistol drawn and Riyo at his side. Glass shattered behind them as a gruff voice called out,

"Get them!" As he ran, Riyo tipped over barrels and crates in their wake. Shots fired from laser rifles lit up the dark Ethereal night, missing them by a hair.

"Uncle!" Riyo called out to him, fear evident in his eyes. "Uncle, where are we going? The docks-"

"We can' go back there, lad," Silver panted as he recharged his pistol. "Head for th' town!" Riyo did as he was bidden, but doubted his uncle's logic. In town, there would be constables. True, that may scare off their pursuers, but it may also lead to his uncle's arrest, as he was still a wanted man.

Once they got deep enough inside the city, Silver allowed himself a moment to regain his strength. He glanced over his shoulder, and noted that there wasn't a trace of Viper's men. Just to be on the safe side, however, they kept walking for awhile, until they stumbled upon an inn all but hidden between a bakery and a pub. Riyo went in and reserved a room, then let Silver in through a back door. Once in the room, the boy threw himself down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"...Mama said there'd be days like this." he said after a moment's thought. Silver chuckled.

"We're safe for th' time bein'. Get some rest, Riyo." He laid there for a moment more, then pulled a small flute from a pocket on the inside of his vest. Putting his chapped lips to the mouthpiece, he started to play a melody Silver had never heard before. One of his own invention, no doubt. The boy had a talent for music.

Silver quietly left the room. The music of Riyo's flute grew fainter as he made his way outside. The crisp air caused him to shiver slightly as he closed the door behind him. He lit his pipe, losing himself in thought. They were ahead of Viper's crew once again. But he was out of ideas. When they'd first appeared, Silver had doubted the man that called himself Captain Viper. He'd done his best to forget his past dealings with the man, and recently he had succeeded. He'd managed to forget the horrendous details of his short partnership with a man named Thomas Nero- who was also Captain Viper. Nero was a man who had little respect for others, a trait which a great many pirates shared. But Viper was different than most men. He prided himself on being what he called an 'honest pirate'. What he meant by this, Silver had no idea. He'd only been with the man for a few short months before they'd gotten wind of a sighting of the coveted map to the legendary Treasure Planet. Silver, relying on the friendship he'd built with Viper, had gone after it, using the fleet to his advantage. But other pirates had laid a trap for them. Silver closed his eyes as the memory came back to him now, from before he was a cyborg. Before he'd gotten so old.

Viper had left him for dead, as anyone else would have. It was only thanks to a small-town merchant that Silver had survived at all. He'd recognized him from his multiple wanted posters, before they'd crossed the trap, and had alerted the authorities. The nearest constable had pulled him from the rubble, hoping for a decent reward. Silver had managed to elude them, and after quite a bit of trouble, had been fitted with the mechanical parts that had transformed him into a cyborg. It was then that he'd vowed he would one day find that treasure, and make up for what he had lost.

And in doing so, he'd forgotten all about Viper. Partnerships came and went. He'd long since forgotten the man. But one thing was bothering him, and wouldn't leave him alone. When he'd last seen Viper, he'd been at least thirty years older than himself. Silver was starting to feel old age set in on his worn body. It made no sense that Viper could possibly be the young man that was leading the crew of the _Wisteria _now.

"_Wisteria_..." Silver mused aloud, a small cloud of smoke issuing from his lips. Why not the _Tigress_? He shook his head with a sigh. Of all the things he wished he knew about Viper, his reason for choosing one of the lesser vessels as his personal galleon was the last on his list. Silver and his nephew had so far managed to stay one step ahead of the pirate, thanks to Silver's past years of experience as a pirate. But such luck couldn't last forever. Silver was no fool. Bluntly put, he was old. One of these days he'd slip up, make a mistake, and it would cost him not only _his_ life, but that of his nephew as well.

They needed somewhere to go, somewhere that would provide sanctuary for them, before it was too late. And they were running out of time.

* * *

"Hey Rontamel!" Ronto just about jumped out of his skin when he heard his name called. He turned away from his locker to see Jason walking up to him. He gave him a quick wave before resting his hand on his locker door. _Alright, calm down_, he told himself. _Nothing happened. They don't know about any of it_. he thought, but he was still was mildly concerned. He wasn't used to hiding things from the guys. Would he be able to now?

"Where were you last night, Curtis?" Jason asked him. "We dropped by your place and you weren't home."

"I lost my phone." Ronto said. "I had to come back to the school to see if I'd left it here."

"Oh. I was gonna say, you didn't answer your phone either." Ronto nodded.

"Yeah, but I got it back." he said, then grinned at Jason. "Did you study for that test in algebra today?" The other boy groaned.

"Oh no...man, I forgot." Topic changed. He was in the clear. Jason spoke up. "Bet Jim studied though. His dad grounded him yesterday, bet he didn't have anything better to do." Rontamel heard a voice down the hall and slammed his locker shut as if on reflex. Jim glared at the Soc that had just tried to trip him.

"Watch it, grease!" The Soc shouted back at him. Jason flagged him down as Jim slunk away from the jock.

"Hey, Jim, did you study?" Jim nodded, slowly turning his gaze from the growing crowd of Socs to Jason.

"For algebra? Yeah, why?"

"Nobody else did, huh Ron-" Jason turned back to where Rontamel had been seconds before...only to find a closed locker. "...Rontamel?" Jim looked around.

"Where'd he go?" Jason shrugged.

"I have...no idea." It wasn't like Ronto to just split on his friends, especially not in school. Socs were everywhere. Any greaser walking by himself was just asking to get jumped. Jason shook his head. "He probably just went to the bathroom or something. So anyways, you said you studied?"

"Yeah. Not like I've got anything else to do." Jim said distractedly. He remembered his conversation with Dallas, and felt a dull ache in his stomach. He was definitely worried. The way Dallas talked, he sounded like he believed they had a chance at being okay. Jim wasn't so sure.

"Hey guys." another voice spoke up, and they turned to Gauge. Jim's eyes widened in surprise when he noticed the black eye the other boy was sporting.

"Whoa," he said, startled. "What happened, Randle? Tick your sister off again?"

"Ha ha ha, very funny." Gage snapped. "Jackie's got a boyfriend. Some big time Soc." Jim winced.

"Oh...sorry, buddy." Jackie Martin was a girl Gauge had been flirting with for a long time. A Soc. Mick looked up from his phone as he joined their little group.

"Poor little Gage. Chevy get ticked off again?" Gage swung his fist at Mickey, and missed.

"It's not funny you guys!" he complained. A group of Socs, led by the jock that had singled Jim out not moments before, passed by them and openly mocked Gauge. Feeling the tension increase, the greasers stood their ground. Before moving to Tulsa, Jim probably would have ignored them. But things were different now.

"You got a problem, sleaze?" Gauge asked, leaning one elbow on Jim's shoulder. Mick looked ready to spit nails, and Jace's hand was hovering over his pocket, where his switchblade lie waiting. _Tough greasers_, Jim thought, and bit back a smile.

"What's it to ya, trailer trash?" one Soc asked. Jim transferred his glare to him, and the Soc froze. Anyone knew those eyes. Dallas' reputation helped him out in times like these. Jim nodded to them.

"Keep walkin' if you know what's good for ya." he said in a low voice. The Socs mocked them again, but moved on down the hallway. Jim shook his head. Those Socs needed to be reminded who was _really _in charge of things.

"Hey, guys, you want to head down to Jay's later?" Jace offered as they walked towards their first classes, the tense mood already lifting. "We can pick up some chicks." He glanced at Gage. "Preferably ones that don't have _attachments_."

"Shut up!" he snapped, and his friends laughed.

"I'm free." Mickey answered when he'd sobered up some. "I'll be there. You guys game?"

"I have to ask my Dad, but if he says yes, I'll see you there." Gauge stopped to open his locker. "Jim?"

"I'll have to try to finish up my homework early, then I gotta check with Dally. But count me in. One of you guys ask Rontamel when you see him?"

"Sure." Mickey said, and batted his eyelashes at Gage. "Don't worry, Gage. I'm sure _someone _will be drunk and desperate enough to want you."

"That's it!" Gage snapped, and chased after him. Jim rolled his eyes with a low chuckle, and Jace mumbled something about class clowns.

"Seems like the upper class is getting a little anxious." Jim observed, referring to the hostility shown by the Socs. Jason frowned.

"That's not good. They start things when they get like this. And you know how that ends."

"Socs one, greasers zero. Yeah, I know. What can we do though? It's not like we can turn the tables on them."

"That's true. But we _can_ kick the crap out of them when they _do_ try something."

"And we w-"

"Leave me _alone_." a girl's voice snapped. Jim turned to see Ray trying to get past some boys, who looked to be around her age. He walked over to them and pulled the girl away from them, staring them down.

"You okay Curtis?" Jason asked. Rachel nodded, blushing.

"Yeah." she said softly.

"What are you doing by yourself?" Jim asked. _Great, I'm starting to sound like Dally_.

"I was just going to my locker." Ray said with a sigh. "They've been doing that all week." Jim glanced at them, noting that they nicely dressed. He shook his head.

"What do you think? Just messing around?" Jason asked.

"…I don't know."

It didn't end there, either. The rest of the day was spent avoiding Socs, verbal fights, and pranks that seemed endless. Someone had stuffed Gauge's locker full of garbage from the cafeteria trashcans. After gym class, Jason slid on his boots only to find the toes nearly filled with mustard. Jim very narrowly avoided getting doused with dirty, gray water when he showed up early to one of his classes. By lunch, the boys had just about had it.

"One more joke, one more person calling me grease, and I'm gonna lose it." Mickey snarled as he slammed his tray down on the table. Jim nodded.

"I'm with you. You'd think today was April fool's day, they way they're going on."

"Well, it ain't funny."

"It's not?" Rontamel asked sarcastically. Jim glanced at him, but Ronto didn't meet his gaze.

"What they do to you?" he asked, noticing the dark stains on his shirt.

"I was walking out of the bathroom this morning and three Socs walked in. They started yelling 'grease', then the next thing I know…"

"Grease." Jim guessed, and Rontamel nodded.

"Not enough to mess up the bathroom, but enough to get in my hair and on my clothes." Jim looked around their table. They _all_ looked awful. Poor Mickey smelled like a garbage truck, too.

"I'll kill 'em." Gauge swore. "One more of them messes with me, I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" The small gang of boys turned slowly to see said bullies standing within earshot of their table. The cafeteria, which was normally full of loud, boisterous conversation, suddenly went silent.

"I'll send you to your maker, that's what." Gauge spat.

"Oh, I'm _so_ scared." the Soc mocked. "Hey, Tom, get a load of these filthy greasers!"

"Disgusting!" his companion gagged. "Can you believe they let them come to _school_ like that?" Jim put a hand on Gauge's arm.

"Cool it, Randle." he said he said under his breath. "They want us to throw the first punch."

"I _know_." Gauge muttered.

"Why don't you punks beat it to the salvation army, I heard they're giving away free food. Your families could probably _afford_ that." Jim opened his mouth to say something, but instead of the insult he'd had on his mind, a surprised shout came out instead. He and Mickey jumped up as the contents of a lunch tray were dumped onto their shoulders. A glob of mashed potatoes smeared in his hair, the gravy dripping down into his eyes. Mickey brushed the soggy green beans off of his clothes, his eyes sharp with anger.

"Jim-" Gauge started, but Jim cut him off by landing a punch square on the culprit's nose.

That was all it took. The Socs ran at the greasers, who met them readily. From across the cafeteria, Rachel and Chevy stared at them.

"What are they _doing_?!" Ray gasped. Chevy just smirked as she watched her brother and his friends begin fighting the upper class students. Their pent-up anger fueled them, and it was obvious the Socs hadn't expected much of a fight.

"Exactly what they _shouldn't_ be." She pointed towards the doors that led to the office. "Look." Sure enough, the school's principal came running into the cafeteria.

"Stop it! Break it up! Now!" he demanded, but they ignored him. Jim tackled a sophomore and started slugging him blindly. One of his punches busted the guy's lip. He stumbled back, dazed, and Jim kicked him in the stomach hard enough to knock him backward. He was blinded by fury, and once again his training in hand-to-hand combat was proving useful. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned sharply before executing a perfect roundhouse kick…on the principal's bad leg. Jim's eyes went wide as he watched the man fall to his knees, an expression of intense pain on his face.

"S-sir I-"

"My office." he snapped, holding his leg with a grimace. "All of you…_now_."

o~O~o

"I've got an idea," Gauge muttered as they waited outside the principal's office. "Let's play a game. On a scale of one to ten, how dead are we?"

"Soc's been giving us trouble all day." Rontamel said as he chewed his fingernails. "They were asking for it. I say four."

"Drew blood on one of 'em. I say seven." Mickey said as he paced the carpet, slapping his empty pockets.

"Seven." Jason said after a moment's thought. "I mean, with my dad…maybe, like, a four. But my mom…"

"Same here." Gauge. "My dad might not care, but my mom is gonna kill me." Jim stayed quiet. He was sitting on the bench near the door with his friends, his closed fist lightly tapping the armrest. He was trying really hard not to think about it. He was already grounded. What was Dallas going to say? _Maybe he won't be that mad. I mean, Ronto's right. They've been asking for it all day. And Mr. Sikes…I didn't mean to…I mean, I didn't see him and-_ Mr. Sikes' door opened, and his secretary asked Mickey and Gauge to step inside. When they were alone, Ronto gave Jim a nervous grin. Jim just nodded.

"Might get suspended." Rontamel said quietly. Jim closed his eyes.

"Don't remind me." he sighed, then rested his head in his palms. "My dad is gonna kill me. I mean, literally kill me."

"Well, if it helps anything, Ray and Chevy are on our side. They're telling the truth."

"Yeah, and no one else is." Rontamel opened his mouth to object, but Jim was right. They were in a _lot_ of trouble. Rontamel started tapping his foot. Jim glanced at him. "What are you so worried about?" Rontamel shrugged.

"Dude, you took out Sikes." Jim winced.

"I didn't know it was him, okay?" he shot back. Rontamel chuckled.

"Still, it was funny." Jim felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah. Hilarious. My dad's gonna love hearing that one."

"Well, you never know." Rontamel continued to laugh. "He _might_." Jim shook his head.

"Oh, sure. I can hear him now. What-"

"What's the matter with you?" Jim froze, and looked up to see Dallas stalking down the hallway. Jim bit his lip, not able to say a word. Ronto looked away, his good mood having vanished. "You can't go a day without screwing up, can you? Look at me." His voice was unnervingly calm. Jim looked up at him.

"Dallas, it wasn't our fault-"

"I don't _care _whose fault it was. It doesn't matter." Jim didn't answer him. Normally, he'd have started arguing with him, but Dallas was right. It didn't matter whose fault it had been, because in the end the Socs weren't going to get in trouble. That aside, the last thing Jim and Dallas needed was to have to explain a school fight to a social worker. "They told me you started this whole thing."

"Uh, Dallas-" Rontamel started, but Dallas held up a hand to stop him.

"Is that true?" Jim turned his head away from his dad. "_Answer _me."

"I-I…um..."

"James Pleiades Hawkins-"

"It wasn't my fault!" Dallas set his jaw and looked away from him.

"Go get in the car." he said quietly. Jim didn't need to be told twice. He'd just stood up when the door opened again. Sikes' secretary looked at Jim, then at his father.

"Oh…Mr. Sikes just sent for him-"

"Tell him that his dad's here instead. _I'll_ talk to him." He turned to Jim. "Get in the car." he repeated, then followed the secretary into the principal's office. Rontamel jumped up and darted after Jim. He caught up to him before he headed outside.

"Hey, I talked to Sam." he said in a rush. "You know. Yesterday." Jim seemed to lighten up for a moment.

"Yeah? What did she say?"

"She kinda guessed."

"So she's not upset?"

"No, she's alright." Jim nodded.

"Thanks Rontamel." Ronto shrugged.

"Eh, don't thank me. That's what friends do, right?"

"Yeah-"

"Didn't I tell you to get in the car?" Dallas asked as he walked down the hall. Jim bit his lip again.

"I owe you." he whispered to Rontamel before he darted outside.

Rontamel walked back to the principal's office, and sat back down on the bench. Unbidden, the image of Samantha leaning closer to him popped up in his mind. For a second he thought he could feel their first kiss lingering on his lips. She'd asked him if he'd wanted to hang out again that night. He'd told her he would think about it, but he'd been intending to go back. Now he didn't know whether or not he'd be able to. He sighed, and leaned his head back against the wall. _What am I getting myself into?_


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Aaaand I'm back. I apologize for my absence, for awhile I thought I'd have to discontinue the story, but I now have more free time to write, so I'm trying to get this going again.

I realized I haven't been posting a disclaimer for most of the chapters. I don't own anything that originated from neither _The Outsiders_ nor _Treasure Planet_. I own all of my original characters, as well as the storyline/plot for _Second Chances_.

-xXSilverEyesXx

Chapter 9

Jim glanced at Dallas as his dad tossed his car keys at the coffee table, then dropped onto the couch. He hadn't said a word the entire way home. He waited anxiously, wondering what his dad was going to do, and wishing he'd just get it over with. Dallas lit a cigarette, leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he took a drag from it. For a while, he was quiet. Then he looked at Jim, his expression unreadable.

"What on earth were you thinking?" The same calm tone he'd used at school. He really just didn't know. Jim felt the back of his neck.

"It's...a long story."

"Well, they suspended you for a month. You've got some time to kill." Jim winced. Dallas put out his cigarette, shaking his head slowly. "Don't tell me you didn't see that coming."

"…'m sorry."

"Sorry ain't gonna do any good." Dallas looked him in the eye. He actually didn't seem mad. "You wanna tell me what happened now?" Jim sighed, and began to explain why the fight had started. He really hoped Dally wouldn't snap on him. To his surprise, his dad just grinned at him.

"So the next thing I know, someone snuck up behind me and Mickey and dumped their tray on us. I...don't really remember what happened after that."

"Let me give you a hint. Your principal was sitting with his leg up on the desk and a bag of ice on his knee." Jim smiled sheepishly.

"I, uh...got carried away." Dallas laughed.

"No kidding." Jim looked at him, puzzled.

"So you're not mad?"

"Well...look. Those Socs were messing with y'all first. One thing I don't expect you to do is just take crap like that. You did alright. But why didn't you wait 'till after school? Y'all could'a jumped them in the parking lot." Jim paused, realizing that would have actually been very effective. "You're not stupid. You knew what was gonna happen, the Socs got off free, and you and the guys get to pay for it."

"A whole month?"

"You drew blood, kid." Dallas chuckled. Jim smiled, just relieved not to be in trouble with his dad. Dallas shook his head as he stood up. "You're still grounded, anyway. And now that you ain't in school, I ain't got much of a choice but to keep an eye on you myself." Jim's smile disappeared. "I'm gonna talk to Buck, see if I can bring you with me."

"Aw, what?" Jim groaned. "I don't want to be around a bunch of horses all day."

"You probably should have thought of that before you got yourself suspended." Jim slapped a palm over his eyes.

o~O~o

Trisha Hawkins let her front door slam behind her as she let out an irritated growl. She'd just met with her attorney, who had reluctantly informed her that, though their case had been accepted, they wouldn't be in court for four months. Trisha had wanted to go _now_.

"You told me there was enough evidence to get in by the end of the month." she'd reminded him sharply. He shook his head.

"No, I said there _could_ be. Apparently, I was wrong."

"Well why is it going to take so long? That man has a criminal record a mile long, there can't seriously be a chance he'd keep my nephew under these circumstances."

"Actually, there is." She'd stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Mr. Winston has been on parole for several months, and so far he hasn't violated it. He's paying rent, he's got a steady job, he's clean." Seeing her icy expression, he hastily added, "For now." Trisha had pressed every possibility, but there was nothing they could do now but wait. Trisha had gone home.

She wished Dallas would just see the sense in surrendering her nephew. She'd heard about his trip to the hospital. Surely even someone like _Dallas_ could see that his kid was in danger there. Then again, Trisha was assuming, as she had been told, that it had been a simple grudge attack. But who knew for sure what was really going on? His father had, after abandoning his son and his wife, taken the child under his wing simply to get the sympathy of the jury so that he could get out of jail. She knew that. But what had Dallas done to get himself in jail in the first place, she wondered? His attorney was tight-lipped. What if there was more going on than he'd let on? Dallas could be involved in any number of illegal activities, and if he were, then Jim was in danger. Even worse was the possibility that _Jim_ was the one that could be involved in shady business. It honestly wouldn't surprise her. Like father, like son, after all. _If Sara had known where her son would be after-_

Trisha winced, her eyes closing tightly. She leaned against the door to her bathroom and pressed a palm to her face. She avoided thinking of her sister. In order to keep her life together, she had to push Sara out of her mind altogether. For years, it had been easy. They weren't as close as most siblings were, but they kept in touch. They visited occasionally. Trisha was the more successful of the two of them, and while Sara was stuck with running an Inn to support herself and her son, Trisha had had hardly any trouble with money at all. She'd never meant to give the impression that she was gloating about it, but it seemed that she never knew the right thing to say, and when awkward silences fell between she and her sister, her job was usually the first thing she jumped to. She enjoyed what she did; she worked in a physical health facility and helped physical therapy patients. It paid more than well.

The tears were flowing freely now. Giving up, Trisha sat down on the foot of her bed, her head in her hands. She missed her sister so much. She could remember the day she'd answered the phone. She'd had the day off, and was at home, watching TV and attempting to cook. Sara was always sending her recipes, encouraging her to practice with her culinary skill(or lack thereof), and she had finally gotten around to it. The phone had rang, and she'd picked it up.

"Hello?" she said into the phone, her attention focused more on the movie she was watching.

"H-hi…Trisha?"

"Yeah, who is this?" she asked, not recognizing the voice. It was quiet and soft, almost a whisper. The caller drew a breath that shook in his throat.

"I, I'm so sorry, I…" he stuttered, and let out a strangled sob. She recognized the hysterics.

"Delbert?" she quipped, rather annoyed. Why Sara put up with the well-to-do astronomer was beyond her. He was the walking definition of 'geek'. "What is it?"

"Y-your sister." he's practically moaned, and Trisha froze.

"Sara? What, what is it, what's happened?" she asked, but Delbert was crying so hard he couldn't answer. Trisha felt afraid. What was wrong? "Delbert, can you hear me? What happened? Is Jim alright? Delbert!" His sobbing was suddenly cut off, and another voice came on the line.

"I'm sorry, he's been going to pieces like that all day." This voice was more controlled, demure, but soft, with a crisp British accent.

"Who is this?" Trisha snapped.

"I'm Delbert's wife, Amelia." Delbert was married? Trisha pushed the thought aside for now.

"What happened to my sister?" she demanded. There was a pause.

"I'm afraid she's passed away."

"…_what_?" Trisha whispered. She felt cold. No, her sister couldn't be…no. Delbert wasn't crying, he was probably laughing. There was no _way_ he could be married, this had to be a prank call. "You think this is funny?!" she shouted into the receiver. "What kind of sick joke is this?!"

"This isn't a joke, Miss Hawkins." Amelia said gently. "I'm sorry. But your sister has died of Scarlet Fever." Trisha thought the signal was going bad, but she realized she was shaking so hard the phone was jumping in her hand. She slowly sank to her knees, dropping it. _No, no, no, no…not Sara, no…_

Trisha looked up, and her eyes landed on a picture frame sitting on her dresser. It was a picture of her and her sister, when they'd been in high school. Sara was the quiet one, the social butterfly. Trisha had been the loud, animated cheerleader. The picture was of them together, sitting under a tree in their front yard. They were glaring daggers at each other. Trisha remembered taking it. They'd been so angry with each other, though she couldn't remember now why. Their father had surprised them by taking the picture. It was an old camera, one that had a flashbulb on the top. Surprised, they'd turned to him. He'd shaken the camera at them.

"One of these days you two will wish you'd gotten along!" he'd shouted with a grin, and immediately they'd laughed right along with him, transgressions forgotten. Trisha loved the picture, because if you knew what you were looking for, you could see the traces of surprise. She remembered their fathers words and held the picture close to her chest.

"Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry…" she whispered, and bowed her head. She was ashamed of how she'd acted at her funeral. She hadn't really known how to cope. She hadn't _wanted_ to embarrass Jim, but she had acted and spoken without thinking. She'd been distant from him ever since he'd been born, and she wanted to make up for it. She wanted to give him a good home. She knew he'd had to stop attending the Interstellar Academy, and she knew he probably hadn't taken that well. She could sell her home, move closer so he could take his classes there. She could more than support them both. She could give him what Dallas couldn't.

She had to at least try.

o~O~o

"I don't think-"

"He won't cause any trouble." Dallas interrupted. "I'll keep an eye on him. He's a good kid." Mat hesitated.

"Then how come he's suspended?" Dallas could have kicked himself. Mat shook his head. "Dallas, I don't know. I mean, I know he's probably ok, but if anything happened, _I'd_ be responsible. And I don't mean if he did something. We've got a couple new hired hands, and I'm supposed to be watching them. If they make a mistake, I'll bet they'd be willing to blame it on any_thing_ or any_one_. I don't want to take that chance."

"He'll just hang around outside then."

"Sorry." Mat shook his head.

"Then I'll leave him in my car with the windows down." Dallas said sarcastically. "I don't have any other options. I can't leave him at home all day, and he can't stay with anyone." Mat thought for a moment, then sighed.

"I guess he can stay in my office…" he said slowly. "As long as he doesn't touch anything." Relived, Dallas shook his head.

"He won't. Thank you." Mat shrugged.

"I know how it is. My wife walked out on me and my kids." He grinned at Dallas. "I had six-year old triplets." Dallas stared at him. He briefly imagined having three kids to hold onto instead of just Jim.

"Oh, lord." Mat just laughed.

"They're worth it. Every bit of it."

"How old are they now?"

"All twenty-three and moved out now." he said with a sigh. "I miss 'em."

"Boys?"

"Girls." He picked up a picture sitting on his desk, of three young women in blue and gold caps and gowns. "When they graduated, I didn't know how I'd manage without them." Mat shrugged. "They come and visit every once in awhile. You know, when they need money or clean clothes." He added with a grin. Dallas tried to imagine that. Jim wasn't that far from graduating. "What about you? What happened with yours? Your wife."

"I…we divorced. She died a few months back, and now…" Mat nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hey, it can get hard at times, but it all works out eventually." Dallas put the picture down.

"Yeah, I hope so." he said, and shook Mat's hand. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome. See you two tomorrow."

Dallas walked out to his car, unbuttoning his work shirt as he went. He still had to pick Jim up from Sodapop's house, but there wasn't any rush. Jim and Rontamel got along okay, and Elise hadn't seemed to mind when he'd basically dumped him on her hands. He wasn't paying attention, otherwise he might have noticed the footsteps behind him. He opened the car door, only to have something slam it shut from behind. Startled, he turned around, one hand going for the blade in his back pocket. He relaxed when he recognized his company.

"Tim." Tim Sheppard nodded.

"Dallas." Dallas stood up straighter. For a moment, neither said anything. Finally Tim pulled a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair, looking in the window of Dallas' car as he did. "Got your message. Socs giving ya trouble?"

"You could say that." Dallas thought quickly. He'd wanted to make those trust-fund brats pay for what they'd done to his son. He still did. But with Trisha and her lawyer breathing down his neck, looking for any excuse to take Jim, he had his back against a wall. Still, he'd asked for Timothy's help, and it was apparent he might get it. "What took you so long?" Dallas asked. Tim smirked.

"Me and Curly been in Vegas."

"I thought they banned you from Vegas."

"Well, me, yeah, but not Curly."

"I'm gonna guess they have now." Tim just grinned.

"Not a bad run, though. You should'a come." Dallas had a feeling this was Tim's way of taunting him, making him think he'd have made a killing if only he'd been invited. Now Dallas smirked.

"I've been busy."

"Yeah, I'll say." He nodded towards the employee overshirt Dallas was still holding. "Since when do you work here?"

"Thought I might as well _act _like I was goin' straight." Tim frowned.

"Wait a minute. They had you locked up nice and pretty last time I heard, what happened?" Dallas shrugged. Instead, he asked a question of his own.

"If you were in Vegas, how did you know I needed your help?"

"My niece heard you. Passed it on to me last night." Dallas was surprised.

"Curly's?

"Angela's." Dallas whistled, and Tim snickered. "You've got no idea. So what's with the Southside gutter trash?" Dallas leaned against his car, and Tim moved beside him. He explained about the race, and also about how he'd taken care of things afterward. Tim threw his head back and laughed. "So what'd ya need me for? Even Socs ain't stupid enough to mess with you twice." Dallas set his jaw, remembering the drive to the hospital.

"They didn't. Not exactly." He turned to Tim. "They went after my kid." Tim started to say something, then stopped. He looked at Dallas carefully.

"Your kid. The boy. Sara's little boy?" Dallas nodded slowly. "You two get back together?"

"She's dead." Dallas said flatly. Tim stared at him. He seemed to be having a hard time finding something to say, so Dallas started talking to fill the dead air. He told him what happened and about how badly he wanted to fix them for ganging up on Jim. His mouth worked independently of his mind. As he was talking trash about the Soc boys, he was also thinking about her.

o~O~o

Of course Timothy felt the loss of Sara. He'd known her, talked to her. He'd heard about her for months after the scene at the dinner. It was driving him nuts, the way Dallas carried on about what he was going to do when he ran into her again. Finally, it got to him, and he made a bet with Dallas that he'd never find this mystery girl, and that if he did he'd either be chicken and run away from her or he'd go weak at the knees. Which had set Dallas' temper off as well.

They were in Tim's uncle's car, a sleek black mustang, cruising down the street when Dallas spotted a familiar brunette. It had been a long time since she'd humiliated him, but he knew her face.

"Pull over."

"Why?" Tim asked, irritated. He'd been following the car that belonged to some guy that owed him money, and he was reluctant to stop.

"Man, just pull over." Dallas snapped.

"What, don't tell me you spotted that Cade boy-"

"It's her." Tim pulled over, and they got out of the car. Tim lit a cigarette, looking at the cluster of people Dallas had his eyes glued to.

"Which one?"

"Brunette."

"You're kidding, right? There's gotta be, like, five. Which one?" She was sitting on the hood of someone's car, laughing. Her whole face lit up when she laughed. Instead of the yellow dress he'd seen her in at the diner, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with her hair was down. Dallas didn't answer Tim, he just started walking. He remembered how she'd embarrassed him, and he'd thought about what he was going to say to her. He was going to make her pay. When he walked up to her, her friends stopped talking. She looked at them, puzzled, then turned to Dallas.

"Um…can we help you?" He leered at her.

"Lose your job, sunshine?" _Sunshine?_ Okay, where had that come from? He'd been going to say something else. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not recently, no. I'm sorry, do I know you?" Dallas just stared at her. He'd had girls pretend not to remember him before. It didn't bother him. But _she wasn't pretending_. She really didn't know who he was. He opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but the girl standing next to her coughed,

"Grease." He turned his attention to her.

"Got that right, sweetie." he laughed. "You ain't _never_ seen a greaser like me. Livin' on the Southside, I bet you gals don't get out much." He was drowning. What was the matter with him? No cutting remarks? Why did he keep stopping himself from cussing at them? Just a couple Socy girls and their well-to-do friends.

_Now_ her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh, I _do_ know you." She got off the car and got in his face. "You're that thug from Linda's café."

"And you're the coffee chick." _What's the matter with you?!_ She nodded smugly.

"I heard you were back the day after, but that doesn't make you any less of a jerk. What, did you come to try and bully me again? Nothing better to do than verbally abuse girls?" Dallas was at a loss for words.

"Uh…"

"Excuse my friends here," Timothy spoke up, leaning on Dallas shoulder as he smoked his cigarette. Dallas had forgotten he was there. "He was having a rough day, otherwise I'm sure…he'd have been a bit _nicer_ to ya." The girl ignored him completely. Instead she jabbed a finger at Dallas.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get in your car and beat it, hood."

"Dallas." he finally managed to say. She just looked at him.

"_What_?"

"My name…it's Dallas Winston." Her face softened a little. "I…I just wanted to, uh…apologize." Everyone was staring at him now, but he didn't care.

"Oh." she said softly, and pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. "I'm Sara Hawkins."

"Sara." he repeated, and smiled. "Um…don't suppose you'd be busy this Friday?" She smiled coyly back.

"I guess I am now."

When they got back in the car, Tim couldn't contain himself any longer. Relentlessly, he taunted Dallas, belittling him for the rest of the night. For some reason, Dallas didn't seem to mind. Actually, Tim doubted whether he was hearing any of it. He kept fiddling with the little piece of paper Sara had given him, with her phone number on it. Tim had run into them that weekend, as well. Sara was sitting in the passenger's seat of a car Dallas had borrowed, and they were at some drive-in movie. He'd overheard her call him 'Austin' by mistake, and had pointed it out, much to her embarrassment.

"Tim?" Dallas said, interrupting his loud, barking laugh. He grinned at Dallas.

"Yeah?"

"Beat it." He'd taken the hint. He saw them together a lot after that. And in time, it became a rare thing to see Dallas by himself at all. He hadn't been surprised at all to hear when they eloped.

o~O~o

"He alright?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," Dallas said, coming out of his daze. "Fine now."

"Stop by next week. I'll see what I can do."

"I'll be there." Dallas started to get in his car.

"Hey, Winston." He turned. "I'm sorry. About her." As Dallas nodded, he added, "But don't think I'll take pity on you the next time I see you! You still owe me!"

"Get over it, you filthy greaser." Dallas laughed.

Jim was sitting on the front porch steps with Rontamel's dad when he got to the Curtis' house. Jim walked out to meet Dally, and Soda waved at them before going back inside. Jim climbed in wordlessly, leaning his head against the window. Dallas frowned.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, and Jim looked up.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself." Jim rolled his eyes.

"Rontamel…I dunno, he just…he's acting weird."

"Weird how?"

"Quiet. It was like talking to a brick wall." He shook his head. "Probably just finals or something." Dallas didn't say anything. When they got home, Dallas started putting his stuff away, but Jim lingered by the door. "Did you ask about me coming with you?" he asked.

"Yeah, Mat didn't like the idea at first, but…he says if you stay in his office and stay out of trouble, you'll be fine." Jim nodded. "I thought you didn't want to go."

"Yeah, well…" Jim wearily rubbed his eyes. "Night Dallas."

"You're going to bed?" Dallas checked the clock. "It's barely seven." Jim just shrugged.

"I'm tired."

"Might as well, I guess. I'm getting you up when I do tomorrow, okay?"

"Kay. Night."

"G'night kid." Jim rolled his eyes.

"Dallas, I'm sixteen. I'm not a kid anymore."

"You can say that when you're twenty and you'll still be a kid."

"_Dad_." Jim groaned, smiling. Dallas laughed. It actually didn't bother him. For the most part, things were okay between them. Jim wondered how much longer it would last. He hoped things would get better, but the impending court date, Aunt Trisha, and the visit from the social worker were still hanging over his head like a dark cloud.

At least he'd get to spend a little more time with Dallas in the meantime. He was kind of curious to see what Dallas did all day, but seeing how he was going to be confined to a room by himself, his enthusiasm lessened. On one hand, it was a good thing. He'd been skittish around horses for as long as he could remember, and he doubted Dallas knew that. On the other, he was probably going to be bored to death. Good thing he still had his school library books.

Jim climbed out his window and sat on the roof outside. It was chilly, but the sky was clear, and he could see a few stars. Nothing like back on Montressor, where when the sun went down there weren't street lights to block them out. He tilted his head back against the windowsill, looking up at the sky. He remembered what it felt like on the _Legacy_, seeing the stars and feeling like he could reach out and touch them, ethereal winds blowing through his hair. Nothing holding him back. True freedom. Jim closed his eyes. He couldn't help feeling that familiar sense of longing, missing that freedom. Somewhere deep inside, he felt something that could only be described as homesickness. Which was ridiculous, because he _was_ home. But not quite. He opened his eyes, and spotted a star that was slightly brighter than the rest. He remembered seeing the stars from Montressor, and feeling the same way, even then. _What could it possibly mean?_ He wondered._ I wish I knew. I wish I knew where I belonged_. He didn't feel right here. Maybe it was Dallas. Then again, maybe it was just Tulsa. He couldn't put his finger on it.

That night, Rontamel hadn't just been quiet, distant. He'd been cold. When Jim had tried to joke about having an unexpected vacation, Ronto had shot back that if Jim hadn't started throwing punches they wouldn't have gotten in trouble. He'd let it go, but it kept happening. Finally he said something Jim _couldn't_ ignore. He'd accidentally knocked a picture frame off a bookshelf in Rontamel's room, and the glass had cracked.

"I'm sor-" Jim started, but Ronto cut him off.

"You know, I'm starting to see why Dally can't _stand_ you." Jim bristled.

"Watch it, Curtis."

"Or what? You're gonna go cry to your daddy? Go ahead, I'm sure he'd love to hear it." he snapped back, then winced. "Man…I'm sorry."

"Whatever." Jim had gone to sit out on the porch, and Rontamel hadn't come after him. He was still there when Soda got off work, and they hung out until Dallas showed up. Now Jim was wondering if Rontamel was seeing something he didn't. As far as he knew, he and Dallas were doing okay. They were at least trying. Rontamel's mood just didn't make sense.

The cool breeze finally chased Jim back inside, and he curled up on his bed, with his mother's locket in his hand. He'd disappointed her over and over again, ever since Dallas left. He'd finally straightened up, but he often wondered if it had been in time. He'd only had his mother for a matter of months after coming home. Sometimes she seemed to have been gone longer than she really had because of that. He fell asleep with her locket next to his heart.


End file.
